Coming of Age
by Frances Potter
Summary: PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS STORY IS A WORK IN PROGRESS. The story hasn't been abandoned but I don't know when I will be able to get the next chapter written. Harry Potter thinks he has finally defeated Voldemort. But the battle has taken its toll and he decide
1. The Return

Age_Chap1.html

**Title: Coming of Age: Chapter One - The Return (1/?)**

**Author name: **Frances Potter

**Author email: **frances@forever.u-net.com

**Category: **Mystery, Action/Adventure

**Keywords: **This story takes place around Harry's 21st birthday. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Sirius and just about everyone including Fred, George, the rest of the Weasley and, of course, Draco!

**Spoilers: **All books

**Rating: **General

**Summary: **After finally defeating Voldemort, Harry Potter can take no more. He leaves the wizarding world for good. But three years later the Dark Lord has a 21st birthday present for the Boy Who Lived. Just what Draco has to do with that present is anyone's guess. An Animagus, Ron and Hermione living together and the least likely person to be an Auror are all there to help, but just what role does Dudley Dursley play in all this!

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author's Note: **Thanks to my wonderful Beta readers, Josie (for picking up all my mistakes), Antares Altair (for help with plot problems and words of encouragement) and Emily (yes, you can have him if you want!). Any reviews, are more than welcome, either on-line or at the above email. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

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Coming of Age Chapter One - The Return 

_Everything I touched was golden_

_Everything I loved got broken_

_On the road to Mandalay_

_Every mistake I've ever made_

_Has been rehashed and then replayed_

_As I got lost along the way._

_- _Robbie Williams_ The Road to Mandalay_

_Prologue - Summer 1998 - Aftermath_

"I'm leaving."

Hermione Granger looked up from the cup, which had been holding all her attention, and brushed a curl of light brown hair from her face. The flickering light from the fire was all that illuminated the Gryffindor common room. It burned despite the hot summer's evening, warding off the strange chill that had settled over the whole of Hogwarts. "Hmm?"

Harry Potter was staring into the flames. He was bundled up in his robes as though it were the middle of winter, hands hidden in the folds of dark fabric. He did feel cold. In fact he hadn't felt warm for days, not since the fight with Voldemort, which had also claimed Dumbledore. Harry was almost 18, but he felt more like 800 at that moment. And the worst thing was, no one understood what the fight had done to him.

His friend Ron Weasley would say they didn't understand because Harry wouldn't explain. But the truth was Harry didn't know what to say. Didn't know how to put into words the horror of those last few moments with Voldemort. Harry didn't know how he would ever come to terms with what had happened, but he did know he needed to get away to somewhere there would be no memories.

"I'm leaving."

Putting the cup down on a side table, Hermione stretched, trying hard not to yawn. "Probably a good idea. I know I'm tired and it's been one heck of a day." 

Around the room other people stirred as if the voices had brought them out of a strange stupor. No one had really spoken since the memorial service for Professor Dumbledore, held earlier in Hogwarts' Great Hall. Up to that point no one had really accepted that the great wizard was gone. But listening to people talk about him made both his death and all the other horrors of those last days finally take on a dreadful reality. 

Hermione remembered when she was younger in the days before finding out she was a witch, listening to a great aunt talk about loosing her father in the war. Like Dumbledore, his body had never been recovered. Those left behind, with no grave or body, never managed to grieve properly. It felt the same now. How could the professor be gone? She felt sure that if she went down to Hogsmeade now, she would find he'd just popped to The Three Broomsticks for a Butterbeer.

"No, I'm not tired. I mean I'm leaving. I'm going away." The firelight reflected in Harry's glasses, hiding his eyes, which were full of tears. 

"Away?" Hermione frowned. "Where to?"

"Anywhere. As long as it's not here." Harry let out a ragged sigh and his head dropped back, resting on the chair. "I hate it here." 

"Ron," Hermione turned slightly, holding out a hand towards her other friend - the third side of the triangle forged on the Hogwarts Express seven years before.

Ron had heard the short conversation and was already by Hermione's side. "Okay, Harry. It will probably do you good. Are you looking for some company? I could do with a break too."

"I don't mean a holiday. I'm leaving Hogwarts. I don't want to be a wizard anymore."

"What?" The single word wasn't really a question. "Harry, you can't just stop being a wizard any more than ... any more than I could stop having red hair. Oh, sure I could dye it, but my hair would still be red." He sat down on the arm of Hermione's chair. "Besides, you're Harry Potter - the most famous wizard there is. You can't just stop being him."

"That's the whole point, Ron. I can't carry on being this ... this person you all want me to be. I can't do the Potter thing any more. It's ... too ... too..." The words caught in his throat. "Painful." The emotion in that final word was so powerful it sounded like a cry of agony from a tormented soul.

Hermione became aware of the other people gathering behind her chair, all watching the person who had been their rock doing the recent battle with Voldemort. Harry had held things together when even Dumbledore thought they would loose. She slipped from her chair and crossed the couple of paces between them on her knees, swiftly reaching for his hands. Harry tried to pull away, but her fingers closed around his wrists. "Harry, you know we are here for you. You're with friends."

"No."

"We're your family, don't _ever_ forget that."

"I can't..." He came to his feet, hung on her hands for a moment as their eyes met. She saw the pain in the green eyes, a hurt she didn't know how to help. He pulled away from the kneeling figure. For the first time he saw the group surrounding him; saw the questioning faces looking at him. People he had gotten to know over those seven years. His friends and, Hermione had been right, his family. And they all looked at him. Concerned. Expectant. Apprehensive. "I'm not a wizard. I should never have gotten that letter about Hogwarts. I ... I want to be normal again."

The silence was finally broken by a cough from Neville Longbottom. "Harry, how can you say that? You're the best wizard I've ever known."

"No, I'm not." He suddenly strode forward, elbowing his way through the group. "I'm sorry."

Someone made to stop him, but Ron shook his head, his quiet voice loud in the otherwise silent room. "Let him go. Give him some time." 

For several minutes no one moved, all staring after the retreating back as Harry disappeared to the dormitories. They all seemed to be waiting for Ron and Hermione to do something ... anything ... but both were just as shocked and confused. Finally, if only to break the strange silent stalemate, Ron took Hermione's hand and they followed Harry.

The dormitory was empty.

"Harry!" Ron called, pulling aside the drapes around two of the beds. "Come on, Harry, this isn't a joke anymore."

"No, it isn't."

He spun back round, knowing the voice wasn't Harry's but hoping all the same. "Don't say that."

She was holding a sheet of parchment, tears running down her face. "Oh, Ron."

The letter had been started several times. Words at the top of the sheet from previous attempts had been blacked out in big dark blocks as though someone had drawn a line with a magic marker. Harry must have written it earlier, before the memorial service.

It finally started: 

> _Dear Hermione and Ron, _
> 
> _It would be corny to say if you are reading this then I've gone, but I have to leave. I can't explain, so please just accept that this is happening for a reason. I'm going back to the Muggle world. Don't try and follow me. _
> 
> _Ron, look after Herm - she isn't as strong as you think. _
> 
> _Hermione, look after Ron - he doesn't know how to look after himself._
> 
> _I'm not going to be using magic anymore. So Ron, please look after my wand - make sure it goes to a good home. And look after the invisibility cloak too. Dumbledore once told me to use it well, so make sure you do the same. _
> 
> _Hermione, please look after Hedwig. Don't send her to find me because she won't be able to; I've used a charm that will stop her._
> 
> _Give my love to everyone and tell Sirius I am sorry to have let him down. _
> 
> _Love Harry._

********************

Through a small open window, Harry watched his friends read his letter. He manoeuvred his broomstick, holding station for a moment as Hermione fell into Ron's arms, weeping on his shoulder. Ron wrapped her in his robe, the sheet of parchment screwed up in his hand.

It was the final nail in the coffin Voldemort had been building for him since the Dark Lord had killed Harry's parents too many years ago for Harry to want to remember. 

He kicked a foot against the tower wall and sent the broomstick flying towards the Forbidden Forest and away from his current life. 

********************

Diary of Sirius Black - 31st October 1998

_Today is Halloween and Harry has been gone four months now. I'm writing this to help me understand, but it isn't helping that much. I still can't believe he's gone. I was away when he left, so didn't know about it for a couple of weeks._

_When Harry left Hogwarts, he took very little with him. Ron check through his things, but wasn't sure what was missing. He did take his Firebolt, however. It was found against a wall outside Gringotts Wizarding Bank about a week later. Molly Weasley, Ron's mum, went to see the bank's managing goblin. I wish Bill Weasley was still alive - he worked for Gringotts and knew his way around. But Molly is a person who normally gets her own way. She found out Harry had changed some of the money in his vault back to Muggle money. How much the manager wouldn't tell her. Molly has been through so much; she's lost her husband and son, yet she still has time to care about others. Wonderful woman!_

_When I finally got back to Hogwarts, everyone was in a state of shock and didn't really know what to do next. This was the final straw - first Albus Dumbledore and now Harry. Only one person seemed able to deal with things and that was young Ron. His dad would be proud of him. He'd been having precognitive dreams for some time and he later told me he'd had a dream about Harry's departure. The poor boy doesn't know how to deal with these messages - I'll have to get him some help. He has a very rare gift and it would be a crying shame if he doesn't learn how to use it. He seems to have picked up the reins from Harry and people are looking to him to sort things out. I'll do as much as I can, but I hope it isn't all too much for him._

_Despite Harry's instructions, Hermione did try to send Hedwig with a message. Hermione is devastated. I knew she and Harry had been dating, but didn't realise how serious it was. The owl was gone for over a month and when Hedwig finally came back, the letter was still tied to her leg. She was exhausted and distressed about the undelivered package and it took Hermione many days to revive the owl to her old self. Hermione has set about trying to remove the charm Harry put on the owl. Hermione is terrific at charms and things. I've yet to come across a spell she can't find a counter-curse for. It might take time, but she's got this way of researching things, which gets results. And she's great with medical magic too. Unfortunately she hasn't found a way round the charm Harry put on Hedwig yet._

_And me? I was so angry with my godson I didn't want to do anything at first. Of course, I was angry with myself rather than Harry. I'd let down Lily and James by not being there to look after their son, as they had wanted. If I'd been there for Harry from the beginning he wouldn't have had to live with those Muggles. Maybe, then, he would have understood what being a wizard was really about. _

_What hurts the most though is Harry not being able to talk to me about this before flying off._

_Well, last week I found him. _

_It had been hard work because he'd dropped completely out of sight. And I've never been much good at dealing with Muggle authorities. Arthur Weasley would have been great at it. Harry was living down near the coast and I found him sitting on a cliff top just watching the sea roll against the rocks below. I wasn't sure what I was going to say to him. I just wanted to let him know there were people around who still cared for him. But he acted as if I wasn't there - he just didn't respond. I couldn't believe he would cut me off like that. Then I realised Harry had switched off his magic so completely that anything to do with the wizarding world, including myself, had become invisible to him. _

_What on earth happened during that last battle with Voldemort? Poor Harry is so traumatised he has just locked everything away into some place where it can no longer hurt him. I thought about getting St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries involved, but that just isn't going to help. Harry needs to find his own way through this in his own good time. _

_My concern now is how vulnerable Harry is. He no longer has the protection of his own magic or that of being with his own family. I wish I knew what magic Dumbledore had put on the Dursleys to protect him while he lived there. We could use something similar now. _

_I know the Dark Forces didn't die with the disappearance of Voldemort. In fact they seem to be growing stronger. Insidiously moving into places of authority. It's worse now than before we lost Albus. Harry's enemies know they have the ideal opportunity to rid themselves of him for good. _

_Killing Harry the wizard was almost impossible for them, but Harry the Muggle will be a breeze!_

_The Darkness is still there and it still sees Harry as a threat._

********************

_Tuesday 31st July 2001 - The Return_

The dark-haired young man climbed into the British Racing Green MG sports car, unable to suppress a smile as he turned the key in the ignition. For a moment he sat back in the black leather seat and just listened to the purr of the engine. It sang to him and he answered by tapping a foot very gently on the accelerator peddle.

Harry Potter loved his car. He fell in love with it the first time he saw it in the car show room and had never lost that thrill in the few months it had belonged to him. Of course, there were faster ways to travel - by broomstick for instance - but Harry hadn't used magic in nearly three years.

To the people hurriedly going about their own business on London's bustling streets, Harry was just another person out trying to get through the day. Oh, they sometimes stared at the car, or at him, especially when they caught sight of the lightening-bolt shaped scar on his forehead, but that was because they were just plain nosy. 

But to a hidden world, which ordinary people passed in those same streets every day without seeing, Harry was a hero, a role model and a name to whisper to their children to reassure them that everything would be okay.

Harry was a wizard. In fact he was probably the most famous wizard in Britain ... in the world. 

If he cared to remember that part of his life, he would know just across the road from where his car was parked was the entrance to a part of London ordinary people knew nothing about. Diagon Alley, London's wizarding heart, contained a whole world hidden from prying eyes by charms and spells.

Harry chose not to see it anymore.

But it saw him.

If he had cared to look, he would see people watching him, whispering to each other, "That's him. That's Harry Potter". And asking, "Why did he leave? Why won't he help us any more?" Sometimes there would be a reply "Because he's scared - he's always been scared" or perhaps "They say he never got over losing Dumbledore". But often the answer would be a shrug and a look of great sadness. "They say he's seen right into the face of pure Darkness and that he can't take anymore. Poor boy."

They were right, he had seen too much. Had lost faith in everything, including himself. His heart broken so terribly he thought it would never mend. He didn't want to remember how often he had faced death over the last ten years. Didn't want to be reminded of the friends and loved ones he'd lost. Most of all he didn't want to be reminded of the man ... the thing ... responsible for his heartache. 

Voldemort. The Dark Lord.

Voldemort had dogged his life from the moment he killed Harry's parents, to the day he had been entangled by Harry in a veil of rainbow crystal, which had also become a prison for Harry's mentor. 

Harry's hand paused above the gear lever as Voldemort's name sprang unbidden to his thoughts, clouding the otherwise bright July afternoon. For a fleeting moment his green eyes seemed to dull, the spark quashed by fear. But the sunlight washed over him and as quickly as the memory had surfaced, it vanished. He put the car into gear and slipped out into the traffic. 

He wasn't going to let the past interfere with the present. Three years ago he had walked away from that other world. Given up the magic, given up everything, to return to the ordinary - Muggle - world. He had a new life and he wasn't going to be dragged back into a world responsible for destroying everything he loved. He was a successful photographer now, the darling of the art world. 

And Harry loved it. Loved being famous for something he could do rather than for what people thought he was. In the wizarding world, he was famous because as a baby he had survived an attack by Voldemort, which had lead to the Dark Lord's temporary demise. Harry had no control over those events. Here, in this 'ordinary' life he was in control. He called the shots. It gave him pleasure and for the moment he was content with what he had.

Harry's home was some 80 miles south of London, on the English Channel coast, overlooking the sea. He had been left a considerable amount of wizarding money by his parents, some of which he converted into Muggle money. Enough for the dream car, the house by the sea and a comfortable (if not rich) life. 

There was still a stack of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts in the Gringotts Wizarding Bank and more tied up in investments, but Harry had no intention of ever returning to claim any of it. Like the rest of his wizarding life, it had been consigned to history. His friends, Ron and Hermione, would eventually share most of the money, He knew they probably wouldn't accept it, but that was up to them. It was there in trust and when they both turned 21 they would get the bankbooks. 

In fact, he reminded himself, they were already 21. Hermione was the eldest of the trio. She would have received her book almost a year ago on 19th September. Ron received his back on 1st March. Harry was the youngest and today was his 21st birthday. He wondered how they were, and images from their years together as students drifted lazily through his thoughts. 

"No!" He quickly stamped on the images, reproaching himself for dwelling on the past. 

With an exasperated breath, he pushed a shock of black hair off his forehead and reached for the car radio, cranking up the volume to drown out his own troubled thoughts.

********************

"Afternoon, sweetheart. How's it going?" Ron Weasley leaned over the back of the couch and ran his fingers through the long brown hair of the woman sat there. She leaned back into his hand and he turned her face up to him, kissing her gently on the lips,

"Oh fine. Not getting very far though." Hermione twisted slightly, bringing her legs up onto the couch, "I'm starting to see spells in these books which aren't even written there. I don't know why Sirius should think I can find what he wants."

"Because you are the expert in these things. I'll go and make you some tea." His hand lingered briefly on her shoulder. "My day, on the other hand, has been excellent." Ron filled the kettle with water, put it on the stove and touched it with his wand. It came to the boil almost instantly. "That prediction about Berkeley and the fraud - they caught him at it."

"Well done. Who would have thought it, your predictions actually having some basis in fact." Hermione sauntered into the kitchen and sat down at the large pine table. She started rummaging in the biscuit barrel. "Have you eaten all the chocolate ones again?"

"Who me? The very thought." He poured tea from a pretty china teapot and handed her the mug. "How's Harry?"

Hermione spooned sugar into the mug. "He's fine. Had a meeting near Diagon Alley this morning. I thought he might be tempted to visit, but no. He's off home now for a birthday party with 'her'!" 

"Ohhh, the Big Green Jealously Monster rears its ugly head again." 

"I am so not jealous!" She pouted. "I just wish he was here, celebrating his 21st with us ... where he belongs." Ron had a suitable retort primed and ready to go, but he decided against it. He might not actually be able to read Hermione's thoughts, but he was able to pick up her emotions with ease these days. Teasing her about the missing Potter would not a good idea just now. "I keep thinking that even after all this time, he will miss us so much he'll come back."

"He will, when he's ready. Remember, it's in his chart."

"And your charts never lie?" The question was actually a statement. "What happened to my lottery win?"

"Ahh, I never said *when* it would be, did I." 

Ron was a seer. Well, probably 'trainee seer' would be a better description of his efforts to date. Back when they were at Hogwarts, Hermione never had a kind word for Professor Trelawney, the divination teacher, and Ron had hated the classes. Maybe 'hate' wasn't the right word. He'd found the whole thing hilarious if the truth were told. Yet slowly but surely, the predictions he claimed to have faked started to take place, his astrology charts actually worked and he even saw things in the crystal ball. For most of his 6th year at Hogwarts he denied any suggestion he had 'the gift' as Trelawney kept insisting. Then he saw in a dream what Voldemort was going to do to his father and knew it wasn't a gift at all, but a curse.

"Hey! No dunking biscuits!" Ron clung at the diversion. "That is not cool and leaves a mess in the bottom of the cup."

"Sorry." She quickly finished the biscuit. "Ron, why are we still doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Still keeping watch on someone who doesn't want to be watched." 

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

"I guess. You know we spend our time watching over that git and what do we get back from him?" She picked up another biscuit and snapped it forcibly in half. "He's got a new life and what do I have? Not even a chocolate biscuit!

She poured a fresh cup of tea and sighed. She remembered quite vividly the first attempt made on Harry's life after he left Hogwarts that day back in 1998. Fortunately, Sirius had been with him or he might not have survived. Afterwards, his godfather had gone to the Ministry of Magic with his concerns for Harry's safety, but they had refused to have anything to do with protecting him.

Lucius Malfoy, who she knew was a supporter of Voldemort, had somehow managed to worm his way in into the position of Minister of Magic after what had become known as the 'Final Battle' - the downfall of Voldemort and the death of Dumbledore. He'd done it by pretending to be some sort of philanthropist, giving money to all sorts of wizard organisations. It make her sick to think of all those photographs in the Daily Prophet of him kissing babies and shaking hands with pretty women ... or was it the other way round! 

When she and Sirius had gone to his office, Malfoy had expressed his 'sadness' that Harry had chosen not to serve his own kind but return to the Muggles. What was it he had said? Oh yes, she remembered, could even hear his cold drawling voice! "If he isn't prepared to take up his birthright, then why should we expend money protecting him?" 

So Sirius had set up his own team, consisting of Hermione, the whole Weasley family (twins Fred and George, Charlie, Percy, Ginny, Molly, their mother and of course Ron), Neville Longbottom and several other ex-Gryffindor students. They all worked to protect Harry, keeping him safe with spells he knew nothing about and charms, which had saved his life on more than one occasion. 

"Okay, you win. I'll see if I can find another packet." Ron's voice cut through her thoughts and she watched him poke around the cupboard for a fresh supply of biscuits. "Have you heard from Neville?" 

"No. He's still trying to track down that witch who put the last hex on Harry."

Ron found a packet of chocolate covered shortbread and emptied it into the biscuit barrel. He hated seeing the hurt and pain and tiredness on Hermione's face. He'd loved Hermione for years, probably since the Yule Ball during their 4th year at Hogwarts. By their 5th year, she and Harry had been a couple and Ron had found it hard not to let his jealousy show. 

About six months after Harry walked out, Ron had been there when Hermione reached rock bottom. They began a very torrid and physical relationship created out of their dual grief from all the death caused by Voldemort, including Ron's father and brother Bill. Harry leaving had been the final straw. 

Their relationship continued to this day, but as the anger and grief faded, some of the physical passion lessened. Now their love was deeper, more spiritual, and it wrapped them in a strange, profound, almost telepathic bond. Both were very aware of each other's moods and needs, though Ron sometimes wondered whether he could see deeper than even she was aware. 

Most of the time Hermione coped well with everything and they had enjoyed the past three years. But sometimes, he knew she found it too much, watching out for someone she had once loved who might never return. It was hard for him too. Harry had been his friend. No. It was more than that. Harry was like a brother. 

Having seen some of what could be Harry's future helped him cope with the present, but even with the precognitive gifts he had mastered, nothing was black and white. But to watch Hermione die little by little each day was sometimes too much for him to bear. 

One day he was going to punch Harry Potter's lights out.

********************

"Nice car."

Harry jumped at the voice, then realised it came from the car in the parallel line of stationery traffic. It had taken him almost 30 minutes to cover the last mile "Sorry?"

The dark haired girl in the black hatchback smiled at him. "I said nice car."

"Thanks." He turned the radio down. "Bad traffic."

"There's been an accident about a mile up the road." She paused as Harry's car drew a few feet in front of her, waiting until they were level again. "So. Do you have a name?"

"Me or the car?"

She continued smiling. "Well, both, but yours is more important. Let me guess the car - something mysterious?"

"No, it doesn't have a name." Not one I'm willing to tell a complete stranger anyway, Harry told himself. On a bad day, when the car seemed to have a mind of it's own he called it 'Draco,' but that was not a name he cared to explain. "I'm Harry."

"Afternoon, Harry." She reached across the gap between the two cars and Harry felt obliged to respond. His right hand grasped the outstretched fingers. "I'm Isabel and my friend here," she pointed at the driver, "is Julia." (Author's note: in the UK we drive on the left, so the driver sits on the right side of the car)

Harry smiled at the other woman. "Hi." Julia waved back.

"So, Harry, what brings you to this traffic jam on such a fine Tuesday afternoon?"

"I'm on my way home."

"And home is?"

"A long way from here."

Isabel ran a finger along her lips. "The mystery deepens. A long way?" She giggled. "I live not far from here. Fancy a coffee, Harry From a Long Way Away?"

"Not today. Thanks" He suddenly realised his car was drifting closer and closer to the other car. Quickly he corrected and tried to keep his attention on the road. It was not an easy thing to do. He felt strangely drawn to the woman and she was starting to unnerve him. Neither car moved. Harry's relaxed mood was sorely tested as the sun beat down. He took off his glasses and reached for the prescription sunglasses in the glove compartment.

Isabel still watched him. 

He focused his gaze left, away from Isabel and to the lake, which ran beside the road. On it, he spotted one of his photo opportunities. Quickly, he grabbed for his digital camera (a constant companion now) and shot off several pictures of a family of swans gliding serenely across the surface in which the row of stationery cars was reflected. He slid back into the driver's seat just as the traffic started to move again.

"Amateur or professional?" Isabel returned to haunt him, waving at the camera. 

"I like to think of myself as a professional amateur." He made to put the camera down and then changed his mind. "May I?" He gestured with the camera at her.

"But of course." She struck an over-the-top pose.

Harry quickly set up a shot, surprised at himself for wanting to take a photo of a person he would like to see the back of. He took the first photograph, and then frowned as the image through the viewfinder shifted and the sunlight reflected off the woman, causing a strange halo around her face. For a second he thought the features shimmered out of focus as though he was seeing a second face superimposed on the first. He shot a photo through the effect and then it was gone as though it never been there - wiped clean by the sun. "Thanks." 

"The pleasure is all mine." She started searching for something in the glove compartment and found a pen and paper. "Look, Harry, if they come out, will you send me a copy? I'd really like one."

"Okay." Isabel reached across the space between the two cars and handed him the sheet of paper. He glanced down at it and saw the woman's name and address. "If they come out, I'll send you a copy." 

"Thanks. This is our turning coming up." She stretched across the gap and again Harry took her hand. This time, it felt tacky with sweat. "Hope the traffic doesn't keep you too long, Harry Potter. Hope we meet again soon." The car suddenly indicated right and took a side road. He watched as Isabel's hand kept waving until the car was out of sight.

********************

"Why don't we," Ron reached out a hand and stroked Hermione's fingertips, "go up to Hogsmeade, have a few Butterbeers and..."

It came like a ripple in the air, a shockwave that expanded across the kitchen first passing Hermione and then washing over Ron. "What the..."

It left them both gasping and Hermione's eyes opened wide. "Dark Magic. Really powerful Dark Magic." Her chair scraped across the floor. "They're after Harry."

********************

Music back up loud, Harry kicked the car into top gear and finally managed to get up some speed as the traffic thinned out. He could feel the wind tugging at his hair and the shoulders of his shirt and was glad for the cooling breeze after the sticky wait in the traffic jam.

Absently, he robbed at his forehead with his right hand.

********************

"Oh, no! I've lost him."

Hermione leaned forward, clutching at the side of her head, and let out a howl of pain. "What are they doing to him?" She felt a familiar pressure on her shoulders. Two hands, which had lightly rested there since the Dark Magic passed through them. A calm steadying voice, so un-Ron-like, filled her mind, finding a path through the panic.

"Quiet, Herm. Just hold the thought. You know he's still there. I can feel him. So can you." He allowed her to draw on his power, letting it flow through them both.

Hermione took a deep breath as she felt Ron's power wash away the taint left by the Dark Magic. She clung onto the light like a drowning person. It augmented her power and she allowed it to flow through her, into her hands. They rose over the crystal, filling it was a soft gold light.

A picture formed.

********************

Five miles from home Harry began to feel it. His right hand had felt mildly irritated the whole journey, as though he'd caught it on a nettle or had pins and needles. But now he felt hot, sweaty, and he was developing a migraine. There was also a sick feeling in his stomach and he had to swallow back acid bile. 

Off the motorway, and onto the smaller side roads, he drove faster than he should, desperate to get home before it got worse. But the traffic was bad and he sat in jam after jam. A few miles from home things were no different.

Harry slowed the car to a halt. The constant stop-start of the traffic jarred his body and made his head throb with pain. He fought against being sick as nausea came in huge waves. The effort left him light-headed and bathed in perspiration. He felt like his shirt was choking him and he unbuttoned it a little. "Come on! It's my birthday and I want to go home!" But the traffic just carried trickling along at it's own leisurely pace.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" He turned off the radio, no longer able to stand the noise and leaned back against the rest. Above him a flock of birds rose from a tree and settled in the next one along the road. If only he could fly - make the car just take off and fly home. That way ... Harry paused, realising that he could do just that. He knew the spell to make a car fly, even knew how to shield the other Muggle drivers from remembering said flying car. 

But he didn't have a wand anymore. Maybe he could get off the road and disapperate. But again not without a wand! A single hollow laugh left his throat. "This was not a good day to give up magic."

Sweat ran down his face, stinging his eyes. Harry pulled off his sunglasses, squinting against the bright light of the sun, and draw the back of his hand across his forehead. It felt hot and feverish, "I don't understand," he muttered to himself and realised the guy in the car in front was watching him in his mirrors. "Just get the hell out of my life," he whispered to himself. "Can't you see I'm ill?" 

Harry's hands dropped into his lap. He was desperate for a drink. "Maybe I should have gone for coffee," he mused, mind drifting and filling with the image of Isabel.

A car horn made him jump and he realised the traffic had moved. Quickly he put the car into gear and released the hand break. The car edged forward and he reached for his glasses. He wiped his had across his forehead again and put the glasses back on.

And froze.

The back of his hand was covered in blood.

Harry was speechless. He mouthed an expletive and grabbed at the rear-view mirror, pulling it round so he could see. 

His scar was bleeding. Not huge rivers of blood, but oozing slowly, like sap seeping though tree bark. The blood was bright red, almost an unnatural colour. "No. This can't be..." He grabbed a paper tissue out of a box and pressed it hard on the scar. It came away bloody and for a moment he thought he had stopped the flow.

Then slowly, very slowly, it began to ooze again.

********************

The room was dark except for the glow from a large stone basin. It cast a harsh icy light onto the two faces standing beside it.

The two faces were so similar it was clear they shared the same genes - father and son. Pale pointed faces with grey eyes surrounded by platinum white hair. The light turned their features into skull-like relief, hiding the eyes in black, shadow-filled sockets. 

The father's eyes were hard, full of cold emotion. The son's were similar, but his youth still allowed him to keep a hint of hope and joy in them.

They waited in silence, the young man finding it hard to stand still because of cramp in his left calf. Keeping the rest of his body perfectly motionless, Draco Malfoy surreptitiously pressed his toes into the stone floor, trying to ease the sharp digging pain. He hoped his robes would hide the movement. His father didn't move. He had succeeded.

The pain slowly decreased to a dull ache and Draco lowered his heel to the ground. They had been waiting in silence for what seemed like hours. He resisted the temptation to look at his watch. He was thirsty and bored and it was not how he expected to be spending his 21st birthday. He'd expected lots of presents and something much more interesting to do then 'waiting'.

And what were they waiting for?

He had absolutely no idea!

A surprise his father had said.

Somehow, Draco didn't think it was finding out he'd won tickets on a round-the-world cruise. He might be 21, but his father always gave him the impression his son was forever 11 years old!

Then it happened. 

So sudden he had no time to react.

Like a shockwave from a bomb blast, it swept across the darkened room, streaking toward him. 

It hit, passing through Draco's body before travelling on to the far wall where it stopped with a sound like shattering glass. The wave fell to the floor in a shower of hail.

Draco realised he'd forgotten to breath. In fact he's forgotten how to do anything.

Something had ripped each of his molecules apart and then put the atoms back together again. 

When he did remember to breath again, his lungs felt like they had been scorched or as if the very air was solid, grazing the delicate tissues. 

He wanted to speak, but his throat was too painful. "What...?" Draco finally managed to squeak out the word.

Lucius Malfoy watched his son's discomfort, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "That, Draco, was Dark Magic returning to the person who Called it. You should be honoured that I have allowed you to experience this Power."

All Draco could do was nod. The sensation of his molecules shattering still burned through his body and he realised that this was Power touching him at a cellular level, shifting and altering something he couldn't quite grasp. 

He didn't like it. He had to remind himself to breath, conscious all the time of his father watching him with a condescending half-smile on his face. Draco hated that smile. He knew he had inherited the same expression ... had used it on countless occasions ... but to have it used upon himself never failed to unsettle him. 

"Come and see who the recipient of this Power is today." Lucius gestured his son to the bowl, a hand steering Draco closer. Both men looked into the shimmering depths. The light seemed to have condensed into liquid, slowly turning in a whirlpool. Its surface crackled with energy. "Now, touch the surface with your wand."

Draco drew the slim wand from his robes and did as he was instructed. "_Situs Persona_." The words came unbidden to his lips as if someone else was talking through his mouth. This was not a spell he'd come across before and he didn't know how he knew the words now. The surface of the bowl seemed to fall in on itself, leaving it glass-smooth. An image slowly solidified from its depths. 

It was of a man about his own age. He was leaning back against a headrest in a Muggle car, his face drained of colour and clearly in pain. The image moved and raised a hand to remove his glasses. Green eyes stared out from the bowl - eyes dimmed by pain almost to the point of having no colour at all.

Finally it dawned on Draco who the person was.

"Harry Potter?" he questioned. His old adversary from Hogwarts looked different now. His black hair had been cut short and for once, despite the pain, looked tidy. Draco looked closer, studying the face he hadn't seen for many years, and realised Potter's scar was bleeding.

"Yes. Isn't it delicious to finally see him suffer." The look in his father's eyes was unlike anything Draco had ever seen before. "I so wanted to give him a birthday present ... and what better than this."

"I thought he was protected. How did you mange to get through to him?" Then Draco remembered the Dark Magic so unlike anything he had ever experienced before. "Are you going to kill him?"

"Oh no. Not yet." Lucius stared at the bowl, his eyes fixed on the image. "He'll have to suffer much more before I will give him the luxury of death. Or perhaps you would kill him for me."

"Me?" Draco's cool composure, which he had been quietly working on restoring since the shockwave had stunned him, crumpled slightly. He had never killed a person in his life. In fact, he had gone out of his way never to be put into just such a situation. Killing didn't lead to answers even if that was what his father believed.

"Yes. I know you saved his life once, when you thought no one was looking."

"How..." The words dried in Draco's throat. No one but himself and Potter knew of that incident. How Potter had slipped and was hanging on by his fingernails. How Draco, who could have left him to fall, had pulled him back to the path. He swallowed. "How did you know?" 

"I know everything, boy." Lucius turned suddenly on the young man and gripped his chin between thumb and fingers.

The pressure was so hard Draco thought he would break his jaw. He tried to pull back, but couldn't move his head. Forced to look into the other's eyes, he realised with a growing sense of foreboding that the person looking back was not his father.

"You know don't you!" If Draco could have nodded he would. "Did you really believe Potter had defeated me?" He released the young man with a push, which sent him sprawling to the floor in a heap of black robes. "Who am I?" Draco didn't move, couldn't find a voice. "WHO AM I?"

"Lord...." The words were a whisper of disbelief. "Lord Voldemort."

"Yes." The man's eyes had taken on a red hue.

"But ... my father."

"Your father was a great soldier and loyal follower. He willingly gave himself for me and in return I promised to care for you" He began to slowly walk round the prostrate figure. "Though sometimes I wonder who got the best part of the bargain. Since my rebirth six years ago, I have been working towards two things. First, to finally rid myself of Dumbledore. Then, with him out of the way, I would deal with Harry Potter. Dumbledore was easy. Your father, in his role as Education Minister and a governor, forced the split up of Hogwarts. Once Slytherin split from the School, Dumbledore started to loose his hold over people. Their children were able to study the Dark Arts without having to hide in the shadows. They no longer needed to send them to schools overseas. And, of course, you know what that lead to."

Of course Draco knew. He was one of the many who left Hogwarts just months after starting his 6th year to join the new Slytherin School. He had cheered along with all the new Slytherins when the Ministry of Education suspended the Hogwarts Charter to Teach six months later. Dumbledore had kept the school open, but only for some of the older students already in their final two years. Potter, Weasley, Granger and some of the others he once studied with remained. But many left because the Death Eaters made it almost impossible for children to attend the school.

Then, during what would have been his 7th year, the Great Battle had begun. A war of attrition waged by Voldemort's followers, bringing the wizarding world to it's knees as they had done 25 years before.

"Yes, I know."

"Then came my chance. What better way to rid myself of Dumbledore than to have him sacrificed himself in an attempt to destroy me? He knew he could trap me in a place from where neither of us could return, but needed Potter to carry out the magic. Only Potter, because of his insufferable mother's sacrifice, had the power to open the Chasm and then close it again. It took Dumbledore days to persuade Potter the only way to end the war was for both him and me to be trapped together. Oh, how Dumbledore pleaded with the boy." Voldemort's chuckle echoed around the room. "It was your father's idea to give me his body and for him to take my place."

"You mean he's locked with Dumbledore somewhere?"

"Oh yes. But don't worry. He is still alive. When Potter meets his match, I might return him ... assuming, of course, that you play your part."

"My part in what?" Draco finally felt strong enough to stand. He never made it as Voldemort forced him back to his knees with a mere look.

"You have always been part of my plans, Draco. You and Potter. Have you never realised that you and he are opposites? Light and Dark. Gryffindor and Slytherin. Dumbledore would have added good and evil, but he always had a funny way of thinking. And you share the same birthday. Your father always said you were slow, but I'm sure you are intelligent enough draw your own conclusions. You see Lily and James Potter where a strange combination. Apart they were nothing, but together they would produce a child with powers greater than any living wizard. Dumbledore knew this and worked to protect both of them from me. He was torn you see, between wanting them to have their dearest wish and what that child would become. Of course, I wanted them to have a child - a son who would carry those powers. I wanted those powers, but I needed a catalyst to receive them when Potter died and keep them safe until he reached manhood, when I would be able to take them. That is what you were created for."

For once Draco couldn't think of anything to say. He was starting to feel very alone and very scared. If he could have gotten to his feet, he would have been out of the room in a flash. Instead he felt welded to the floor.

"You and he are twin souls, linked on a deeper level than flesh. You may have different genes, but my life force runs through each of you. I made you both and that Power you just felt as forged the link between you and him. That was why his parents fought so hard to keep him from me. You both carry my Mark. Potter's scar is my Mark, which should have killed him. You have the same Mark."

Draco amazed himself by managing a tiny snort of disdain. He knew exactly what marks did and did not exist on his pale. "I don't have a mark like that."

"Can you imagine people's reaction if you displayed a mark the same as Potter's? It had to be hidden until the time was right. You father followed my instructions and used a very powerful charm on it. And now the time is finally right." 

Voldemort reached for the neck of Draco's robe and pulled it away from his shoulder so roughly that the clasp broke. Draco gasped as he felt the buttons on his shirt give way, leaving a pale shoulder exposed against the dark cloth. Voldemort again grabbed at his chin, this time forcing his head to one side.

The touch of Voldemort's wand on his right shoulder felt like ice. The Dark Lord ran the wand slowly along Draco's collarbone and stopped at the slope of his neck. Slowly the ice turned to fire, building in intensity and Draco felt like he was being branded. He fought the pain, determined not to cry out - his father had worked hard at making sure his son could deal with pain. But Voldemort was proving a point - proving he was in control - and the pain continued to intensify, searing into his body, carried by his blood to every part of his being.

Finally a scream forced its way from deep inside. It was an anguished cry of "Please!!! Stop!"

He was released. 

Draco stumbled, half crawling away from his tormentor. Sobbing, he raised a hand to the hollow of his neck. Under his fingers he could clearly trace the small lightening bolt scar. 

----------


	2. Imperio

Age_Chap2.html

**Title: Coming of Age: Chapter Two - Imperio (2/?)**

**Author name: **Frances Potter

**Author email:** frances@forever.u-net.com

**Category: **Mystery, Action/Adventure

**Keywords: **Harry, Hermione, Ron, Sirius and just about everyone including Fred, George, the rest of the Weasley and, of course, Draco!

**Spoilers:** All books

**Rating: **General

**Summary: **It's Harry's 21st birthday, but the day isn't going the way he expected! After finally defeating Voldemort, Harry can take no more. He leaves the wizarding world for good. But three years later Draco finds out the Dark Lord isn't dead and he has plans not only for Harry but for Draco as well. An Animagus, Ron and Hermione living together and the least likely person to be an Auror are all there to help, but just what role does Dudley Dursley play in all this!

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author's Note: **Thanks to my wonderful Beta readers, Josie (for picking up all my mistakes), Antares Altair (for help with plot problems and words of encouragement) and Emily (yes, you can have him if you want!). Any reviews, are more than welcome, either on line or at the above email. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

********

Coming of Age Chapter Two - _Imperio_

The car came to a halt in front of a converted lighthouse, sending up a cloud of gravel dust, and Harry staggered out. Half an hour ago he didn't think he could feel any worse. Now he had changed his mind. Everywhere his clothes touched his skin, it felt like they were burning his flesh. And the seeping scar was now bleeding freely, sending rivulets of scarlet down his face to splatter little rubies across the front of his shirt.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Harry headed for the bathroom. Each step jarred through his head, streaking white pain into his scar. In the bathroom he didn't bother undressing. He all but fell into the shower and turned the water on full power.

The power jet sliced into his face and body, soaking into his clothes. For several minutes he simply stood, allowing the water to wash the blood from his face. Then slowly - painstakingly slow because each movement ripped pain through to the core of his being - he stripped off his shirt. He expected to find the flesh red raw. 

It was untouched. Clean and clear. Smooth and slightly tanned. There was no sign of the burned flesh he expected.

Pushing his hair back from his eyes, Harry began to remove the rest of his clothes, struggling with the jeans, which now clung to his legs. The jeans joined the growing pile of sodden clothes on the increasingly wet bathroom floor. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the tiles and let the water flow down his back. Drops of blood splattered onto the white tiles, and he struggled to hold back tears of pain.

"Harry, is everything alright?"

He physically jumped and turned towards the voice. Blood ran into his eyes and he immediately looked away from the woman stood beside the pile of soaking wet laundry. "Emily. Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I ..." How could he explain this to his girlfriend? "I ... umm ... spilt developer chemicals down myself." He pressed hard on his forehead, trying to stop the bleeding.

The auburn haired woman bent to pick up his shirt, scrutinizing it. "Is this blood?"

"No ... Yes. I've got a nose bleed."

"Oh, no." Emily stepped over the clothes, nearly tripped on a shoe, and pulled open the shower door. "Come here. Let me help."

"It's nothing." He kept his back to her. "Look, don't touch anything. I don't want you to get any chemicals on yourself. I'll be down in a minute."

"But ..."

"Please, just leave everything." His tone changed, voice rising in fear. Emily thought it was anger. She turned on her heel and left, slamming the door behind her with such force the window rattled.

For some time Harry didn't move. Then slowly he leaned back against the wall and slid to the floor. Cradling his knees to his chest, he sat on the shower floor, his sobbing tears mingling with the hot water.

********************

"Well done." Ron's grip on Hermione's shoulders tightened and he held her against him.

Hermione clasped his hands tightly. "Well done you too. You know, that was extraordinary. I haven't come across power like that since ..." She shook her head in wonderment. "Since Harry's last battle with Voldemort. If I didn't know any better I would think it was him."

"What? Voldemort? We both know that's not possible." The pair didn't move. "Is Harry okay?"

"For the moment anyway." Hermione had found she had a talent for medical magic and particularly counteracting charms and curses. "I've managed to put up several blocking charms, which should help him deal with the pain and other nasty things. But I really need one-on-one contact to get rid of the hex completely."

"That's going to be difficult."

"Well, someone needs to do it." She finally pulled away, sad to leave the safe cocoon of Ron's arms. "I think we need to contact Sirius and the others. Something really bad is going on here."

********************

Draco had no idea how long he sat curled up against the cold, rough wall. His father ... Voldemort ... had stood over him for some time after his trick with the scar. Draco didn't see him leave. One moment Voldemort had been there, the next he was gone. No flash of bright light, just a ripple and nothing.

The glow from the bowl still illuminated the room, but Draco had the impression it was slowly dimming. Or perhaps there was something wrong with his eyes. He knew sooner or later the light would go out and he would be left in darkness. He would have no choice but to get to his feet and walk out of the room.

Walk out to where? To what?

There was a part of him which still thought this all had to be a big joke. Or maybe his father was testing him in some weird way. The Malfoys were renowned for their 'little tests'. Or ...

But there was no other 'or'. There was no mistaking what had just happened. The Dark Lord was here, in Draco's home, inhabiting his father's body. And his father was ...?

Draco realised he was going to be sick. Without thinking he dropped to his hands and knees and retched. When he finally sat back on his heels, he saw stars from the strain of trying to throw up on an empty stomach.

He crawled back to his spot by the wall. And started to laugh. The hollow painful convulsions lasted for several minutes before slowly subsiding. Everything had suddenly become so overwhelming he knew if he didn't laugh he might cry. Of course, it was no joking matter, but what did he have left? All his life, Draco had carefully avoided any really dangerous situations. Yet here he was in one of the most deadly he could think of. Oh, he had delighted in tormenting people since he was old enough to understand the process. But deep down, he never really meant anything by it. At first he just acted the same way his mother and father had. Later it became a release valve against the oppressive rules his father imposed.

Damn it! It was expected of him, so who was he to be anything different?

In a real fight, he would always find a way out, which prevented him from getting hurt, but still allowed him to take the credit. Even while supposedly being a follower of Voldemort in recent years, he'd managed to find ways and means of not getting involved. More importantly, he always managed to find ways of not taking Voldemort's oath of allegiance. He'd even weaselled his way out of submitting to being branded with the Dark Mark.

When he was about 12, the idea of having one of those marks seemed really cool. Muggles had things called tattoos and here was his chance to have something better. Fortunately Lucius had refused, telling Draco he was too young to be able to understand what having a Dark Mark meant. His infatuation remained, however, and it lasted right up to the opening of the new Slytherin School and his first encounter with the Dark Lord.

It was on that day he finally realised this was not a game. Voldemort was playing for keeps and at some point Draco would have to pick sides. He'd attended several Dark Mark ceremonies since that meeting and felt smug because he always managed to prevent having the Mark branded on his arm.

Of course, now he realised why the man he thought was his father hadn't pushed him into the ceremony. Draco already carried the Dark Lord's Mark.

********************

The small bathroom window looked out over a granite patio, which lead to a small path leading to the cliff edge. Emily Shaw was busying herself with setting a table for the supper party she and Harry were having that evening. Harry's actual party would be a big affair in London in a couple of weeks, but this evening would be for Harry and his closest friends.

Harry, wrapped in a white towel, watched Emily from the window. She moved lightly around the space, sorting out flowers and table linen and shooing away Thomas, her big lazy black cat. Occasionally, she would push a strand of hair behind her ear; an action Harry knew meant she was thinking deeply about something. He watched as the sun picked out red flecks in the brown tresses, which curled across her bare shoulders, and sighed.

They had met a year and a half ago at a launch party for a book of Harry's photographs. Her hazel eyes had stared so uncompromisingly into his own, that he felt he was going to topple into them. He hadn't fallen in love overnight. In fact, if he was honest, he wasn't sure even now if he loved her. But they were comfortable together and they made each other very happy.

Which was why he felt guilty now for having shouted at her. Well, he would apologise later and hope she would forgive him. But for now he had other problems.

He was calmer now, because the pain had gone, but he still felt weak and was very confused, with more questions and not enough answers. He knew in his heart what had happened was not a 'normal' sickness. He didn't want to admit it, but he recognised a curse even after all those years.

And then there was the scar.

It had stopped bleeding now, but instead of being a thin silver line, it was bright red and ragged like a fresh wound. He turned slightly and looked again in the mirror. The scar now had an unsightly scab on it. How on earth was he going to explain this?

He pursed his lips and touched the scar. It felt soggy, like it didn't belong to him anymore. For several minutes he studied at his reflection, unsure of what to do.

_You could try magic_, the image in the mirror told him.

_But it won't work without a wand_, Harry replied.

_You never know. It's worth a try._

Taking a long controlled breath, Harry ran both hands through his short hair, holding onto it for a second. Before he could change his mind, he intoned the words that would heal the scar and return it to its former glory.

As the words left his lips, Harry felt the familiar tingle of magic settle over him like a sprinkling of summer rain. He'd forgotten what it felt like to be surrounded by magic. Forgotten the taste and smell and feel of it running over his body into his skin and along each and every nerve and fibre.

He let out a little sob of emotion. It was the same sensation he had felt in Ollivander's Wand Shop ten years ago to the day when he waved his first wand - 'holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple'.

He felt like a drowning man reaching for dry land.

He'd come home.

********************

"Evening all!" The door between kitchen and garden flew open and in swept two tornados, which were Fred and George Weasley. "Never fear, the cavalry has arrived." Fred gave a theatrical bow and headed straight for the fridge.

George, meanwhile, emptied a bag on the kitchen table. Several boxes of Chocolate Frogs spilled out. "Only one thing for a crisis like this. Lots of chocolate."

Hermione watched open-mouthed. The arrival of the Weasley twins often left her open-mouthed. She was reminded of a pair of over-excited puppies rather than two grown-ups. Fred and George never failed to raise a smile even in the darkest hours.

The boys (Hermione found it hard to think of them as anything but 'boys' even though they were older than her) sat down at the table. Fred handed his brother a Butterbeer and they gave each other a quick toast. "Where's Ron?" Fred pulled the stopper from his bottle.

"Somewhere. I don't think we expected you to get here quite so quickly."

"Well, needs must!" George took a drink from his bottle, his long ponytail swinging with the movement. Their brother Bill had grown his hair just as long; much to his mother's horror, and Hermione knew George hadn't cut his hair since Bill died. It suited him and sometimes she was quiet envious of the long flame-red locks, especially on the days her own rather mousy brown hair did nothing more than hang in a long bushy mess. It should be, she decided, against the law for boys to have such beautiful hair! Bill had also worn an earring, but George drew the line at that. It was Fred who took to wearing one - a small gold stud.

The noise from the kitchen brought Ron out from the study where he'd been checking emails on the computer. Owls were okay, but sometimes Muggle technology had its uses. He greeted his elder brothers with a smile, clasping each by the hand. Seeing the three together it was hard to tell who was the youngest. The twins spent their time running 'Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes', their joke shop ("Now open in Hogsmeade as well as Diagon Alley"). It had left them with their boyish charm and a passion for practical jokes. Ron, meanwhile, had become old beyond his years. Somehow, when Harry left, it had been just assumed that Ron would take up Harry's mantle. People expected Ron to run things, take decisions and generally be in charge. Even Sirius often deferred to Ron when it came to organising things. And Ron, being Ron, never complained about it. He just got on with things and somehow forgot what it was like not to have responsibilities. His quick sarcastic wit was still there, but wasn't much in evidence anymore. It was difficult to joke when people hung on to your every word and expected a serious answer to their questions.

"Didn't expect you for hours." Ron joined the trio at the table. "Not very busy today then?"

"Half-day closing!" Fred began working his way through one of the boxes of Frogs, still checking the 'Famous Wizard' cards. He tutted in. "Merlin again. More importantly, that little scanner device Neville made - you know the one that's supposed to glow if Harry gets hexed. Well, boy did it glow today. It could have lit up the whole of London."

"Neville will be pleased to know it works." Hermione quickly told the boys what had happened earlier. "We've owled Sirius, but he's in France at the moment. I'm not sure how quickly he can get back, so it's up to us to do something about this."

When necessary Fred and George could be very solemn and thoughtful and this was one such occasion. They both listened intently, casting each other furtive glances at appropriate pauses in Hermione's story. "Dark Magic?" George finally said. "Are you sure?"

"Way serious Dark Magic. I haven't seen or felt anything like it for ages. And what we got here was only the echo. Imagine what it must have felt like for Harry as the target. I've managed to put up some temporary blocks to it, but we need to actually have contact to sort this one out."

"That's going to be difficult." Ron made the same objection to his brothers as he had made to Hermione earlier. "We can't just turn up on his doorstep."

"Oh, I don't know." George pondered. "We could go to Harry's party. I can just see him introducing us. 'This is Ron, my best friend'," he mimicked Harry's Surrey accent, " 'This is Hermione who I used to shack up with and is now sleeping with my best friend and these are Ron's mad brothers who have made a fortunate out of joke wands and trick sweets'. No, I can see it isn't a good idea."

"And," Fred interjected, "I haven't gotten him a birthday present yet."

"But you have just given me a brilliant idea." Ron's face broke into a huge grin. "We'll get him to come to us."

"Great plan, Ron. No wonder you didn't get into Slytherin." Fred added another card to his discarded pile of wizards. "Why should he suddenly change his mind now after three years?"

Ron got up, disappeared from the room and when he returned carefully placed something on the table. "Because of this." The object was Harry's wand. They had all seen it before. It had looked like it had died when Harry left it at Hogwarts. The holly wood became brittle and dry and no one else had been able to get even a little magic out of it.

But the wand on the table looked completely different. It was vibrant, almost shimmering with power. Ron's grin widened (if it was at all possible considering how big his grin already was!). "Harry had got to be using magic again and that's what the wand is picking up. If he's using magic, he might just want to come home."

"You git!" Hermione punched him on the arm. "How long have you known about this? You let me rabbit on for hours when you had that all the time!"

"Ouch!" Ron playfully grabbed her arm. "The wand was on my desk and I noticed earlier it looked different but to be honest didn't really give much thought as to why. It's only just occurred to me now what it might mean."

"And your plan is?"

"Two things. We need to check out Harry's car. He was in it when the hex was put on him. If the car has been cursed, he'll be just as ill next time he uses it."

"Easy," George shrugged, "we'll go and check it out as soon as it's dark. Hopefully the Muggles will all be drunk by then."

"If not, a little mist off the sea will cover our tracks." Fred waved his own wand and the table suddenly looked like it had been covered with dry ice. "And second?"

"We send Harry some presents!"

********************

A gentle tapping on the study door roused Harry from his thoughts. "Come in," he called.

Emily looked into the room. "You've got the 'Keep Out, I'm Working' sign showing."

"I've always got that sign showing."

She crossed to the desk and put her arms round Harry's neck. "Is everything all right? You've been acting very strangely."

"Well, you wouldn't like me if I was normal."

Harry's arms slipped round her waist, pulling her into the 'V' formed by his legs. "I'm fine." He turned his face up towards Emily and allowed her to kiss him. It was a gentle slow touch, which made him relax into her arms and close his eyes. "I'm sorry," the words were spoken into the kiss. "I didn't mean to shout."

Emily pulled away from his mouth, pleased that he tried to maintain the contact. "You're forgiven. You can find a suitable way to say sorry later." He leaned forward, dark head resting against her chest. She smelt of the meadows surrounding their home and of the sea and he kissed her on the soft skin between her breasts. She let out a very small sigh.

For a long time they didn't move. Harry was deeply aware of the beating of her heart and of the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. He felt like he was outside of time, like the moment would last for an eternity. It didn't.

"Ron and Candice are here." She finally spoke and felt him tense against her.

Harry was surprised that the name 'Ron' should cause such vivid images to flash into his mind. But the Ron in those images wasn't the publisher friend who sat downstairs -the Ron who had published his book and introduced him to Emily. "I'd better get dressed. Your table deserves more than a pair of shorts."

Emily grinned at the rather short shorts, the only item of clothing Harry was wearing. "Oh, I don't know." She gazed down at him with an apprising look, and then ran a finger through the fine hair on his chest, down his torso to the waistband. "I rather like it and I know Candice would approve. Or ..." Her finger slid between material and flesh. "We could send them home."

"Hmm. Interesting idea. But not very tactful." Harry kissed her quickly and removed her hand. "I'll be down in a minute."

He waited until he was once again alone in the room before turning back to the computer. The photograph he called up was one he had taken of Isabel. Was it only three hours ago he had been stuck on the M25 motorway?

There had been something about the women at the time that unnerved him, but he had forgotten about the weird effect seen through the viewfinder. Now as he looked at the image on the computer screen, he could see it again. It looked like a double exposure. The dark-haired Isabel was superimposed by another image. Blonde hair, slim, older than Isabel. He thought he recognised her, but couldn't place the woman. The other photographs showed just Isabel.

Harry would have accepted the strange photograph if he'd been using a wizard camera, but his digital camera was as Muggle as you could get. How had he managed to capture such an image on it?

However, all this would have to wait till later. He reached for the mouse to close the computer down, but stopped, his fingers a few inches above the desk. What was it Isabel had said as her car drove off? "Hope the traffic doesn't keep you too long, Harry Potter. Hope we meet again soon."

Harry Potter! She had actually called him by name and he knew he had never mentioned his surname! How could she know unless?

Of course she had to be a witch. It all began to fit in together. He remembered the tacky sensation of her hand when they had touched each other and the irritation afterwards. He looked down at his right hand, which now looked perfectly normal, but if she had used some sort of potion - perhaps a poison - what could it still be doing to him?

Or, he could be just imagining things and there was a perfectly reasonable 'normal' explanation. Why would someone suddenly decided to hex him out of the blue? It just didn't make sense. It wasn't as if he had upset anyone in the Wizarding world recently.

Even more frustrated, he went to dress and join his guests.

Ron the Publisher met him in the lounge with a big bear hug. He couldn't be more different from Ron the Wizard. In his early 30s, Ron was big, muscular from hours in the gym. He looked like he could snap the rather skinny, gangling Harry in two. "Happy birthday, mate." He pumped Harry's hand, shaking the arm almost out of its socket.

"Thanks. Is Candice about?"

"She's out in the garden with your good lady. Theresa and Mac are out there too."

"Then I guess I should be a good host. Do you want that glass topped up before we go out?" Harry nodded at Ron's almost empty glass.

"Better not. I understand you have some nice champagne in the fridge." The two men crossed the lounge. Ron stopped at a small alcove, which was lined with a dozen or so nicely framed prints. "I see your gallery has grown."

Harry grinned. "Nothing to do with me, thank you very much. This is all Emily's work. I'd like to take them down."

Ron cast a critical eye over the photographs, all taken by Harry. Some he'd seen before as they featured in Harry's book, but others were new. One caught his attention. It was of a sleeping woman. "You know, I swear that she moves each time I see her."

"It's a photo, Ron. Photos don't move."

"Hmm. Then maybe I've had too much already." He peered closer. "Doesn't she look a bit like Emily?"

"Well," Harry coloured a little. "Perhaps there's a slight resemblance. It's probably because the hair is a similar colour." Harry swiftly steered him away, casting a quick glance at the image of a sleeping Hermione Granger. Ron was right, she had moved, but almost imperceptibly. Muggle photographs didn't move, but wizard ones did. He'd taken that one of Hermione back in their 5th year at Hogwarts with a Christmas present camera from Sirius Black.

Harry found he was a natural at taking pictures and he spent the rest of the school year chronicling everything from Quidditch to afternoons at Hogsmeade. He was particularly proud of the photo of Hermione, but that all changed when he realised the image never woke up. It was like watching Sleeping Beauty waiting for the prince to waken her with a kiss. But the prince never made it through the thorn fence and she was trapped forever slumbering in that print. He had wanted to get rid of it but couldn't bring himself too.

So it had been hidden away until Emily found it, fell in love with what she termed a 'great study' and insisted on hanging it on the wall.

It was almost the last wizard photograph he took. That summer, Harry bought his first Muggle camera, he was much happier taking images that never moved. There was a slight resemblance between the two women, but Harry chose to ignore it. He wasn't going out with Emily because she looked like Hermione.

A breath caught in his chest as he looked back at the photograph. 

The image's eyes had opened and Hermione smiled back at him. She winked and went back to sleep.

********************

Draco's birthday celebrations were not going quite so swimmingly as Harry Potter's. For a start there was no patio at Malfoy Manor positioned so the summer sun baked it during the day and bathed it during the evening in the red afterglow of the sunset.

There might also be more than six people in the large ballroom, but most were friends of his parents and none were really what he would call 'friends'.

And, most important, Harry didn't have Voldemort as a guest!

Twelve hours ago, Draco had been looking forward to this party, even with the guest list from hell. He had the perfect new set of robes to wear - midnight blue with the most incredible silver stitching. It was supposed to be worn with no undershirt and the silver fastening criss-crossed over the open front. The trouble was the neckline would show off his new scar, which he had no way of explaining. At least not an explanation anyone would believe. So the wonder-robe was in the cupboard and he was stuck with this deep mauve monstrosity, the only redeeming feature of which was its stand-up collar.

Bad dress sense or not, Draco still managed to play the perfect host, mingling, stopping to chat, paying suitable complements. All the time he was doing this, his eyes kept returning to Lucius. His father ... he had to think of him as his father otherwise he would go mad! Lucius was dancing with his mother, Narcissa. Did she know who she was sleeping with? That the person she was dancing with was really Voldemort?

Draco had never before seen his mother look at his father the way she was currently staring at Voldemort. There was adoration in her eyes, which spoke volumes, and he knew Narcissa was quite clear as to who was currently whispering in her ear.

How many other people in this room were aware of what had happened to Lucius? There were at least 50 or 60 he could name as Death Eaters. Avery, the Lestranges (freed from Azkaban after the Battle), the parents of his one-time friends at Hogwarts, Crabbe and Goyle (Crabbe and Goyle themselves had been branded in a ceremony only months before - the stupid fools), MacNair. The List went on. Did these loyal followers know?

And what about the others? Those who hadn't pledged themselves but who favoured Voldemort's ideals: the destruction of all Mudbloods and Muggle lovers; that only people from pure blood families should hold positions of power in the wizarding world; the end of Muggle/Wizard marriages. The list was endless.

He wondered if those working against Voldemort really understood what they were up against. Had they realised their Great Battle had actually accomplished so little? That loosing Dumbledore had only lead to so much fear in people that they would grasp at anything to rebuild their lives?

And who had been there with all the answers? Telling them what to do, how to act, who they should trust?

Why Lucius Malfoy of course!

It was funny how clear everything seemed to Draco now. It felt like he had always viewed his own life through a mist, but now the charm had been removed from the scar, everything else had come into sharp focus. He reached up under his collar and touched the raised Mark. On returning to his bedroom earlier, he had stood in front of a mirror for a long time staring at the scar, hoping to prove it was new and recently created. But he could tell it was an old scar, stretched as flesh grew, moulding itself to the changing contours as he matured from boy to man.

"Ladies and gentlemen ..."

Draco jumped as he was dragged back to the present by the sound of his father's voice.

Lucius tapped on the side of a glass, the sharp sound cutting through the hubbub. He beckoned Draco forward. "Ladies and gentlemen. You are here tonight to celebrate the birthday of my son." Lucius' hand rested on Draco's shoulder, leaving an impression on his skin as cold as ice. "Today he has reached 21, an auspicious moment in anyone's life. Today he becomes a man. Today he stands alone to make his own decisions and to live and die by those choices." There was a splattering of polite applause around the room. Draco could feel colour rising in his face, self conscious of these words and talk of death. "I know Draco will make the right choices and follow the path laid out for him. Is that not the case?"

Draco found himself drawn into the grey eyes, which were a mirror of his own. He saw Lucius' mouth move, forming a silent word. "_Imperio_."

And he fell into a big pit of darkness. At the bottom of the pit his fall was cushioned by millions of feathers. They covered him, blotting out everything but the sound of Lucius in his mind. He wanted to speak, but the feathers filled his mouth and the sound that came out was not his own. The voice seemed to be coming from somewhere else and he had no control over what it said.

"Yes father, I know what is expected of me. I will not let you down. Thank you for your trust."

********************

Miles away, in a converted lighthouse, Harry Potter felt like he was falling into a big pit of darkness. He sat down before the feathers broke his fall.

----------


	3. The Little Book of Charms

Age_Chap2.html

**Title: Coming of Age: Chapter 3 - The Little Book of Charms (3/?)**

**Author name:** Frances Potter

**Author email:** frances@forever.u-net.com

**Category: **Mystery, Action/Adventure

**Keywords:** Harry, Hermione, Ron, Fred, George and, of course, Draco.

**Spoilers:** All books

Rating: General

**Summary:** After finally defeating Voldemort, Harry Potter can take no more. He leaves the wizarding world for good. Three years later, on his 21st birthday, Draco Malfoy finds out the Dark Lord isn't dead and he has plans not only for Draco but for Harry as well. An Animagus, Ron and Hermione living together and the least likely person to be an Auror are all there to help, but just what role does Dudley Dursley play in all this!

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author's Note:** Thanks to my wonderful Beta readers, The Outlaw (for picking up all my mistakes), Antares Altair (for help with plot problems and words of encouragement) and Emily (my Hermione look-alike!). Special thanks also to Lisa Rourke for letting me post her lovely drawing of [Harry][1] here. She originally drew it for Cassandra Claire's _Draco Veritas_, but he looks so like the Harry of my story I asked if I could add it here for you all to enjoy too! 

********

Coming of Age Chapter 3 - The Little Book of Charms 

_Harry was floating above everything, sitting on something soft, like cotton candy. It was shaped like a big fluffy cloud, the sort of cloud a child might draw. Miles below was the world and it felt like he could see everything and everyone; whole countries, seas, mountains, forests, rivers, cities, houses. _

_Directly below was a large Elizabethan building set in wooded grounds. He wondered what it was like inside and, as if by magic, he found he could see through the roof and into a large room filled with people. Despite the distance the room was in crystal clear focus, as though he was watching from a place high in a corner._

_As he watched the people mill around, talking and dancing, he realised he wasn't alone. Sitting beside him was a young boy, perhaps 10 or 11. Harry thought the boy was familiar, but he couldn't remember where from. Everything in his mind was all hazy, colourless._

_"Hello," the boy finally said. "I haven't seen you for a long time." _

_"Do you know who I am?" Harry asked. _

_The boy nodded. "Oh yes, you're Harry. Don't you remember?"_

_Harry shook his head. "I'm not sure. I used to know, but I've forgotten."_

_"Oh." The little blond boy looked down at the scene below. It was a very long way down. "That's my birthday party."_

_"Then you should be down there having fun. Why are you up here all alone?"_

_"I'm not alone. You're here. And I've got Sheba." Harry realised the boy was holding a toy lion cub. "I found her when I was six. She was out in the garden in the snow. I wanted to keep her, but my father said I was too old for toys and made me get rid of her. When I come here she's always waiting."_

_Neither spoke for a while, both content to sit in the safety of the cloud. The boy quietly stroked Sheba. "I like it here. It's safe away from down there."_

_"Do you come here a lot? Often want to be safe?"_

_The boy nodded gravely. "Especially when he's angry." A little hand pointed to someone way below. "He doesn't know I come here. Doesn't know it's where I go to escape. If he knew he would stop me. You see if I'm just watching, it doesn't hurt."_

_"Hurt?"_

_"_Imperius, Cruciatus_. All the horrible spells. He makes me practice them. We never do any of the nice ones. One day I asked if he would show me how to make ice cream. We did, but it was cod liver oil flavour and I had to eat it all. I was very sick. That's when I started coming here."_

_"It's not a good idea you know. Letting him do this to you."_

_"I don't know how to stop him. If I don't do anything, he says I'm stupid. If I try but can't stop him, he says I'm weak. When other people have done *Imperius* on me it's like I'm sent to a place where there is just 'nothing' and all I have to do is say what they want. But when he does it, it always hurts. It's hurting now." The boy started playing with the edge of his midnight blue robe, picking at the silver stitching. "Do you like this? I got it specially for my birthday."_

_Harry smiled. "It's very nice. You know you can stop this. Stop him hurting you."_

_"How?"_

_"Just say you won't do it?"_

_"It's always been easy for you."_

_"No it hasn't. People like hurting me too. But if you keep on letting him hurt you, it will just get more and more painful. He'll just keep on doing it over and over again. You have to find the strength to say no; then it will be you in control, not him."_

_"Will you help me?" The boy held out his hand._

_"Of course. You know I will."_

_Harry reached for the hand ..._

********************

"Harry, are you drunk?"

Harry looked up, his glasses askew. He attempted to straighten them, but his fingers didn't seem to have any feeling in them. His mouth felt like it was full of feathers and he realised he had missed the chair and was actually on the floor.

"If he's drunk, then he's a wuss. He's only had a couple of glasses of wine." Ron the Publisher stepped to Harry's side and grabbed him under the arms. He picked up Harry's slight body with ease and dropped him unceremoniously onto the chair.

Harry blinked up at Ron, then around the room, which rocked back and forth as though he was on a boat. "Umm." The feathers were blocking everything, including his mind. "Umm, can I ... water?" he croaked. Emily quickly handed him a glass, which he accepted with a trembling hand and emptied in one go. She refilled it and everyone watched him drink this one at a more leisurely pace. As the feathers cleared, Harry managed to focus on his friends. He cleared his throat and gave a weak, embarrassed grin. "Sorry about that. Probably too much sun. Serves me right for having an open-topped car."

Emily peered at him. "Now you mention it, you do seem to have picked up some colour." She pushed his fringe off his face and placed the back of her hand against his forehead. "And you are a little hot. Are you sure you got all those chemicals off?"

"Chemicals?" Ron was busy watching Harry, but not too busy to accept a bottle of beer from his wife.

Harry gave a curt nod. "You remember those pictures I took at your anniversary party? I thought it would be nice for everyone to have copies, so I was going to do some prints." The lie flowed easily, much to his surprise. "Unfortunately, before I even got started, I dropped the bottle of developer and got soaked. I know I've washed it all off though, I was in the shower for long enough." He reached for Emily's ministering hand and kissed her fingers. "I'm feeling better now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, yes." He waved everyone away and wondered, not for the first time that day, what was going on. One moment he had been standing in the room, then the next he was falling down a big black hole. He had a vague recollection of loads of feathers breaking his fall and then? What? It was like waking from a dream; you remember it to start with, but it quickly fades unless you write it down immediately. There had been a cloud and ... was there someone else with him? He shook his head in frustration and gave up trying to grasp the remnants of the dream. Instead he clapped his hands together and smiled a not very convincing smile. "Let's get on with the presents."

A small pile of gaily-wrapped packages and cards were brought in and placed on the coffee table. One-by-one Emily read the labels and handed them across to Harry who opened each with great ceremony. There were CDs and DVDs, camera bits and pieces and even a chance to drive a racing car. Emily bought him an engraved gold pen and there was actually a card and gift from the Dudleys. They seemed to have forgotten about how they had treated him as a child when presents consisted of old socks, coat hangers and, once, a fifty pence piece. Now, they were quite happy to spend both time and money on Harry because he was famous and that fame had nothing to do with magic. 

"Just these two left. Someone left them in a box by the door" Emily pushed the final gifts across the table. They were both wrapped in plain brown parchment-like paper and tied with string. Each had been sealed with a blob of red wax and neither had a tag. 

"Secret admirers." Candice rubbed her hands with glee. "How mysterious. Come on, Harry. Open them up."

He picked up the smaller of the two - a thin, flat object about three inches square - and turned it over in his hands The texture of the wrapping paper was familiar and on closer examination he saw the string was actually a golden cord. The seal had a very simple letter 'H' in its centre. Harry slid a nail under the wax to remove it, but to his surprise the cord just fall away at his touch. No one else seemed to have noticed and he frowned worriedly, not sure he really wanted to open it.

"Harry!" Emily grabbed for the package, but he kept it out of her reach.

"Okay, I'm doing it. I'm just trying to drag out the moment." He pulled off the paper. Inside was a little book, bound in a material similar in colour to the cord. It glittered gold in the candlelight, which illuminated the lounge. Across the front in ruby red letters were the words: _The Little Book of Charms by Hermione Granger_. 

A breath caught in Harry's throat, and he thought he might choke. Instead he coughed to cover up the sound and reached quickly for his glass of water, taking a nervous sip.

"Oh, it's one of those little self-help type books. How sweet." Candice clapped her hands. "I've never seen one as pretty as this though. I wonder who the publisher is?" She held out a hand. "Can I see it?"

Speechless, all Harry could do was comply. His eyes were drawn to the alcove where he could just make out the Hermione image smiling at him. He quickly looked away, not wanting to draw any attention to the photograph.

"That's strange, there's no publisher's imprint. But there is an inscription: 'To the Boy who Lived'." Candice pulled a face. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Is there a name?" Ron took the book from his wife. "No, nothing else. And look, the rest is blank." He flicked through the pages. "All blank pages. Nice paper though."

"Please can I have it back?" Harry held out his hand, reaching for the book. "Please!" His voice became sharp.

"Okay. Keep your knickers on." Ron passed it back. "You have some really strange secret admirers."

"You don't know the half of it." Harry quickly opened the book at random. The paper was pale cream parchment and written on it in Hermione's own neat handwriting was a charm for making a lily change colour. On another, how to make a rainbow on a summer's day. "You're right, blank pages," was all he could think to say as he slipped the book into a pocket.

"Last one." Emily poked at the final package.

Harry placed the package on his knees. It was soft and squashy, and tied with a scarlet cord. He pulled open the paper, which crackled noisily in the silent room. Sitting in the middle of the paper was a pair of Quidditch gloves.

"Driving gloves. Very nice." Mac, the sender of the racing car present picked up one of the gloves. "Weird driving gloves. What on earth are they made of? It looks like leather, but it feels really strange."

Harry picked up the other glove, smoothing it between his fingers. Dragon hide. He wanted to tell them it was made of dragon hide, but he knew he couldn't say anything. He slowly slipped his right hand into the glove, feeling the familiar touch of the hide as it moulded to his palm and fingers. The glove, which was padded up the back, reached from wrist to just below the furthest knuckle of each finger, leaving the fingertips bare. The padding, Harry reminded himself was just in case you have to fend off a Bludger. His free hand ran over the back of his hand and he saw the hide had been damaged and then repaired. 

He gulped, eyes widening as realisation dawned. He had to get out of the room. Now!

"Umm. Does anyone want another drink?" Harry sprang to his feet. "I'll get another bottle."

He all but ran to the kitchen, closed the door and leaned against it, taking great gulps of air as he struggled not to hyperventilate. 

With raising emotions and a mixture of fear and nostalgia, he studied the glove again, confirming what he already knew. It was his own glove, last worn in a knock-about match just weeks before the Final Battle. A bat wielded by a Ravenclaw beater had caught him across the back of his hand, breaking the bones. Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts matron had cut the glove off because his hand had been too swollen to remove it any other way. Hagrid had later repaired the glove for him.

Pulling off the glove, Harry chewed pensively on a fingernail. 'Bewildered' was probably a good way of describing how he currently felt. 'Scared witless' was another way of putting it! The woman in the car. The bleeding scar. Being able to do magic without a wand. These gifts. "And don't forget the moving photo and that strange dream with the clouds..." He frowned, had there been a lion too? He held a hand to his forehead as if the pressure might release more images.

All he really wanted to do at that moment was to get away to somewhere he could think clearly. Then he might be able to work out what was going on. He debated for a moment what the reaction would be from his friends if he didn't return to the lounge, but decided vanishing wasn't the answer. Mac still had the other glove and if he looked closely inside, he would find where Harry had scrawled his own name.

Instead, he crossed to the fridge, took out a bottle and made his way back to the lounge. "Okay, more champagne anyone?"

********************

The clock in the tower of the tiny village church was just striking ten as two dark shapes flew over the quiet countryside. On the horizon, there was still a trace of light from the late-setting summer sun, but the landscape was already deep in shadow. Above a sprinkle of pale stars illuminated the ever-darkening sky.

A man walking his dog through the village just happened to look up as the shapes passed over the High Street, darker than the surrounding sky. He watched them for a moment and decided they must be owls or something similar, and went back to walking the dog.

The two shapes were not owls. They were people on broomsticks and it was lucky for them that the man hadn't been wearing his glasses. Silently, they manoeuvred their unusual mode of transport away from the village, following the dark streak of tarmac leading, like the trail of a huge snail, across the empty fields. The single track road lead to a small ocean of light in the otherwise dark landscape and the two broomstick riders dropped down into a copse of trees bordering one side of the property.

Fred and George Weasley silently stowed their broomsticks against a tree, hiding them with an invisibility spell. From their hiding place in the trees, they could see into a room where six people were bathed in candlelight. They could hear laughter and conversation through the open window.

The twins glanced at each other and George gestured to the other side of the building. They carefully crossed to the gravel drive and crunched quietly towards the cars parked in front of the lighthouse's main entrance.

"They look like they're in for a long night."

George nodded. "At least we're on the other side of the building to them. Let's get on with this. The quicker we get it done, the sooner we can get out of here." He pushed his long hair out of his eyes.

Fred walked over to Harry's car and studied it carefully, his wand held before him. "The alarm is on."

"Can you turn it off?"

"Piece of cake." Fred grinned and murmured an incantation. The car became encased in a bubble of red light, which twinkled for a moment before disappearing with an audible 'pop'.

"Shh. Less noise." George gestured at his brother. "They'll hear you!"

"They're more likely to hear your big mouth!" Fred dug an elbow into his brother's side. "Come on, I don't know how long that spell will last."

Quickly the two men started working their way around the car, George taking the outside and Fred the interior. The tips of their wands glowed slightly as the sensor spell looked for any sign of dark magic. They both knew that such magic could easily hide itself from even the most complicated location spells, but the one they were currently using had been worked by Neville Longbottom. Neville, the blundering child from Hogwarts had emerged from the Final Battle as a hero. It was soon clear he had inherited his parents' abilities as Aurors, and he was currently in training. He was now a blundering adult, but an extremely gifted one.

"Well, there are still traces of the curse Hermione picked up. I've dealt with them and the car's clean." George twiddled his wand as if it were a baton. "I've set up some protection spells so that if someone tries the same thing again it shouldn't get through. What about inside?"

Fred's head popped up from where he lay across the seats. "Neville's spell is actually having the desired effect here too." He gingerly held up a piece of paper between thumb and forefinger. "This is sending the sensor crazy."

"You shouldn't be touching it." George scolded

"It's okay. It's not active any longer."

George took the paper, squinting as he tried to read what was written on it in the dim light. Finally, he held his wand over it. "_Lumos_." The wand tip gave out a warm white light, enough to read by. "It's got a name and address. Somewhere in London." Fred was out of the car, reading it over his brother's shoulder. "Is this part of the curse?"

"It's more than that. Can you see where it's discoloured?" George nodded. "There's something impregnated in it, probably a potion. We can't do anything to counteract it without knowing what's actually in it." He suddenly looked very solemn, but there was a disrespectful tone in his voice. "And you know who the best person to talk to about potions is."

George looked as if someone had taken away his favourite joke book. "Oh no. You are not serious!"

"Snape."

"Can't we just ask Sirius?"

"He'll only tell us to talk to Snape."

"Of all the people we could have on our side, why did it have to be him?"

Fred giggled. "Come on we'd better get going."

"Snape!" George allowed his twin to lead him back to the trees. "It'll be like going back to school again.

********************

A hand reached out in the darkness and pressed a button on the clock. The display lit up, grey numbers against a pale background. 2:24am. Ten minutes later than when he'd last looked.

Harry sighed and turned back to look at Emily. She had been asleep for about half an hour now, and he felt sure it would be safe for him to get up without waking her. He needed to find some space to think, somewhere he wouldn't be disturbed.

Carefully, he began to extricate himself from Emily's entwining limbs. They made love after the party and she was still twisted around him, her hair spread across his torso. He ran a hand over her hair, enjoying its silky feel, and studied her sleeping face. There was a soft flush to her cheeks and her lips were slightly parted. Inviting. He wanted to kiss her, but knew she would probably wake up, so instead he touched a finger softly to her lips. She sighed and moved enough for him to slide out from under her. As he crawled off the bed, she turned away, pillowing her head on her hands.

By the light of the nearly full moon, Harry managed to find a tee shirt and a pair of jogging bottoms and he crept from the room. Out on the landing, he quickly dressed, mindful of not waking any of his other houseguests, and crept down the spiral staircase. He scrabbled around in the dark and eventually found a pair of running shoes.

The door leading out of the house creaked loudly as he opened it, and he froze, listening for any noise in the house. There was nothing. He pulled the door closed behind him, walked across the patio and out to the cliff top. The night was warm and he could hear insects and other creatures chattering to each other.

The moon seemed huge as it hung above the cliffs casting everything with an unreal silver glow. It picked out the chalky cliff top and turned the grass into grey blades. Harry stood for a moment on the cliff edge, drawn into the unnatural, mystical light which seemed to seep into his being, touching something deep inside. The light pulled him closer to the edge and he knocked a few pebbles loose. They cluttered down the cliff face, lost in the darkness below. 

It would be so easy, Harry pondered, to just step off the edge and into oblivion. To end the confusion and never have to worry about anything ever again.

He closed his eyes and time seemed to stop. The still night was breathless on his face. He felt so at peace, blissfully empty and the longer he stood there, the more tempting it became just to step forward. Nothing could hurt him ever again if he just stepped out. He would never have to face his fears. Never have to ...

The screech of an owl shattered the illusion and Harry staggered back as though a giant hand had grabbed his shirt and pulled. The mystical quality of the night splintered and he was back in the real world with an unsafe cliff edge and ragged rocks below which would break every bone in his body.

Harry shuddered and dropped to the ground. What on earth had he been thinking? To even consider doing anything so stupid, just didn't bear thinking about. He quietly ran through some meditation techniques to help clear the fog from his mind. The moon didn't seem quite so close now and the inclination to jump was slowly dissipating, but it was frightening to think how easy it would have been just to walk off.

What was going on?

"Boring, Harry," he whispered to himself as the same question spun round and round his head. "Find a different track to following." Yesterday, when he had gotten up and driven to London, his whole world had been full of expectation. He thought he had it mapped out and sorted. Nothing in the slightest magical had happened since he left Hogwarts and all he had wanted was a nice peaceful birthday. 

Instead he'd ended up stood in a shower with blood pouring down his face. The whole of his life seemed to have become one hell of a mess and he didn't know how to deal with it. It felt like he was being backed into a corner with the only way out being to fight. But fight whom and why? 

Below him, he could hear the waves crashing on the rocks and just for a brief moment, the idea of jumping once again seemed an answer to his problems. He started to fiddle with the pieces of cord circling his left wrist. They were the cords from the two packages. Gold and Scarlet - Gryffindor colours. He wasn't sure why, but he had felt an urge to keep them close and had tied them round his wrist just before going to bed.

Why had Hermione and Ron (he knew the gloves had come from Ron) sent him these gifts? The obvious answer was, of course, it was his birthday. But why send them now? Why this birthday? Unless, everything was linked with what happened in the car and this feeling of being trapped.

He looked out at the stars, so bright and clear out here away from the city lights, and remembered trying to see them at Privet Drive when he was growing up. He hardly got the chance to see the summer stars because he would be sent to his cupboard under the stairs long before the sun had set. In the winter, at least he had a chance of occasionally seeing the night sky. Sometimes it was because Aunt Petunia banished him to the garden for some minor infringement of one of his aunt and uncle's rules. Or it might be because he was hiding from cousin Dudley. He recalled the Christmas after his sixth birthday when Dudley had accused him of breaking Aunt Petunia's new crystal vas. Dudley actually knocked the vase off the table with a cricket bat. Harry had spent ages shivering under a bush while through the window he could see Dudley grinning and Petunia striding back and forth shouting at Vernon. He'd heard words such as 'orphanage' and 'call in the welfare people' and 'he's your relative, Petunia, not mine'.

All through those 10 years, Harry believed he actually deserved the treatment being meted out. With no friends of his own to use as a gauge of what 'real' families should be like, he just accepted what his aunt and uncle told him - Harry was trouble and deserved whatever he got.

He wondered what he would be doing now if he hadn't found out he was a wizard and been given the chance to go to Hogwarts. He had the feeling he might have ended up on the wrong side of the law, or stuck in some dead-end job living in a seedy studio flat. Or worse, having to work for Uncle Vernon, probably sweeping his offices.

Meeting Ron and his family had been Harry's first contact with a 'real' family. He was still in awe of the Weasleys even now, 10 years later; of the way they had taken him in and shown him what it was to be part of something. Molly Weasley had treated him as if he was one of her own children. And Arthur Weasley had been the father Uncle Vernon never wanted to be.

Those first years at Hogwarts had been the best of his life. From being a boy with nothing, he found himself in a wonderful new world where everyone thought he was famous, where he could do magic and where he even got to fly on a broomstick.

There had been something even more important than those things, however. He had friends for the first time and that was the best thing. Ron and Hermione were his closest, but there were loads of others: Seamus, Dean and Neville to name but a few. Even Colin Creevey and his brother! And, of course, there had been Hagrid. He could put up with the couple of months each year he had to spend with the Dursleys as long as he knew all these people would be there when he got back to the school in September.

Even the more dangerous times, such as fighting a Basilisk or confronting Wormtail, seemed to be just 'great adventures' to a young boy with no real concept of fear, and any danger was quickly forgotten so the next adventure could be planned.

Then came Cedric Diggory's death and from that point everything changed.

Harry closed his eyes, trying to blot out the image still engraved on his mind even after six years. Wormtail's voice shouting "_Avada Kedavra_", the flash of green light and Cedric's body spread-eagled on the ground. But it was the look etched on the dead boy's face that stayed with Harry even to this day - a look of surprise and disbelief.

Cedric's death had been only the beginning of that awful night. It lead to the return of Voldemort, of Harry being tortured by the Dark Lord and of a pain Harry never knew existed. The pain of seeing his parents, not alive, but as shadowy, ghost-like beings. But they had been so real; they moved and they spoke to him.

For the first time, Harry understood what had been missing all his life. What Voldemort had taken from him the night he murdered Lily and James. Harry had always coped with their deaths because he didn't remember them. Yet suddenly there they were, in front of him, and he knew his life would never be the same again.

His heart had been broken. He had survived the Dark Lord's attack, but everything from that point on changed. He saw his parents in dreams, thought he remembered things from before they died, heard them talking to him over and over again.

And all the time there was Voldemort dogging his every step. He began to feel that the Dark Lord's only purpose in life was to destroy everything Harry loved, admired and needed. Each new event caused Harry' heart to die just a little more. Voldemort's return. The desperate need for his parents. The growing hatred between the two sides. The dissolution of Hogwarts. Arthur and Bill Weasley's deaths. The deaths of so many other people on both sides.

But the very worst - the thing that had turned Harry's heart to stone - had been what he, Harry, had done to Albus Dumbledore. The man who had been his mentor for seven years, who had always been there when Harry needed help. 

It had been the great wizard's idea. Dumbledore had found a way to finally rid the world of Voldemort for good. The only problem was someone had to be the bait, had to lead Voldemort into the trap which Harry would spring. Not for the first time, it was Harry, and Harry alone, who had the power to act against the Dark Lord.

At first Harry refused, demanding another way be found, but in the end, he had no choice. Dumbledore lured Voldemort to a cave beneath the new Slytherin School and Harry had been waiting. Using an ancient blinding spell, Harry had opened a chasm in the cave wall; releasing a power so potent he could hardly control it. The power had snaked out in long crystal tendrils, snaring both wizards into its grasp and dragged them back into its lair. The last time Harry saw Dumbledore he was trapped in that crystal web of power, frozen as though encased in ice.

It had been the End. 

Not just of Voldemort, but the end of Harry. Even thinking about it now, three years later, caused a great icy fist to clutch at his heart. His only consolation for all that had happened was the knowledge the wizarding world was free at last from the clutches of Voldemort. Knowing that didn't help the pain, however, which was why he had walked out on everything - his friends, all that had been so important.

Harry turned, lying on his stomach, and peered over the cliff edge. Below, the white foam of the waves was visible as they broke on the rocks. He had been happy these last three years - well, at least for two of them anyway. Happy because this new life, with its lack of danger and absolute normality, had been exactly what he wanted and needed. 

So why was that other world interfering in his life again? Hadn't he done enough? Hadn't he gotten rid of the Dark Lord for good? Why would Ron and Hermione send him those things? Why did Isabel (or whoever she was) hex him? And what had happened to him after he collapsed earlier? It had felt a little like an _Imperius_ curse, but how could it be? There was no one here at the lighthouse to cast it. An image of a blond boy flashed through his mind. Had the boy been in his dream? And where did the infuriating lion come from? Had his desire to jump come from _Imperius_ as well? And if the Dark Forces were responsible why were they after him again? What had he done this time?

Harry sat back up, crossing his legs, and dragged a hand through his hair. Did he want to be involved with that other world again? It had felt so good using magic and he could still feel the tingle of it. He flexed his hand, wanting to try casting magic without a wand again, but too afraid to do so.

In the early days, just after leaving Hogwarts, he had often wondered what his wizarding friends thought of him. Did they hate him for walking out? Would they ever forgive him, especially Hermione? He had tried so hard to leave it all behind.

He pulled off his glasses and dragged a hand across his eyes, not wanting to accept the fact he was crying. The pain and loss, which had been tucked away in the backwaters of his mind for so many years, had finally found a way to the surface. He could feel it surging upward as the memories where finally allowed back into his psyche. They spilled like a waterfall into his conscious thought and suddenly it was all too much. 

Harry gripped his knees to his chest and began to cry.

The soft rustle of wings cut through the weeping and Harry felt a feather light touch on his shoulder. Twin sets of claws lightly squeezed into his flesh and he looked up into the white-feathered face of an owl. He blinked, the tears burning rivers of fire down his cheeks, and almost instinctively he raised a hand to the bird. It nipped lightly on the fingers before stepping down onto Harry's outstretched arm.

"Hedwig?" The name was a whisper, spilling out through gulping breaths. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

The owl, a gift from Hagrid ten years before, pecked at a strand of tear-soaked hair and fluttered her wings so that the soft under feathers touched Harry's face as if wiping away his tears. Then, she hopped to the ground.

Harry's head dropped back to his knees and the sobbing continued. Deep down inside he wondered whether he would ever be able to stop crying again. He reached out a hand for the comfort of feathers, but instead long slim fingers intertwined with his own. He felt himself being gathered into soft arms and pulled gently against a warm body. He didn't struggle as a hand stroked his hair and a soft musical voice sang. "Hush now. The night cannot harm you. I am here."

He curled up into the embrace and cried away the pain.

-------

Next chapter: Snape sticks his nose in, Draco has a headache and Neville proves he always had it in him. And Harry? Well, he gets to make out again. Thanks to everyone who reviewed and commented on chapters one and two. Special thanks to FringeElemntis, my very first reviewer!!! Love you lots. Any reviews, are more than welcome, either on-line or at the above email. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

   [1]: http://www.angelfire.com/art2/lmrourke/images/New_Harry.jpg



	4. The Potions Master

COA4.html

**Title: Coming of Age: Chapter 4 - The Potions Master (4/?)**

**Author name: **Frances Potter

**Author email: **frances@forever.u-net.com

**Category: **Drama, Action/Adventure

**Keywords:** Harry, Hermione, Ron, Fred, George, Snape, Neville and Draco.

**Spoilers:** All books

**Rating:** PG. (non-explicit adult themes, some bad language!) 

**Summary:** After finally defeating Voldemort, 18-year-old Harry Potter leaves the wizarding world for good. Three years later, on his 21st birthday, Draco Malfoy finds out the Dark Lord isn't dead and he has plans not only for Draco but for Harry as well. An Animagus, Ron and Hermione living together and the least likely person to be an Auror are all there to help, but just what role does Dudley Dursley play in all this!

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author's Note: **Thanks to my wonderful Beta readers, Josie, Antares Altair and Emily. Welcome to my new Beta Thursday, who is quickly becoming as indispensable as the others. Special thanks also to Lisa Rourke for letting me post her lovely drawing of [Harry][1] here. The link I put up last time didn't work, sorry. Please take a moment to check this time and have a look at the rest of Lisa's work. 

**The Story So Far... **(For those who haven't got time to read the first three chapters!) At the end of his 7th year at Hogwarts, Harry thinks he has destroyed Voldemort for good. He decides to leave the Wizarding world. Of course Voldemort isn't that easy to get rid of. The Dark Lord has taken over Lucius Malfoy's body and he has plans to destroy Harry for good using Draco. Meanwhile, Harry has given up all things magical and is living as a Muggle with girlfriend Emily (who just happens to look a little like Hermione). Hermione (who was Harry's girlfriend before he ran away) is living with Ron. And Draco is sleeping with nobody! The Weasley twins have opened their shop. Read on...

********

Coming of Age Chapter Four - _The Potions Master_

When Harry awoke, the sun was desperately trying to rise through the fog bank that shrouded the English Channel in a thick grey murk. 

He lay very still; trying to convince himself he was actually in his nice, warm, comfortable bed back in the lighthouse. However, his mattress didn't usually have huge great rocks in it and the covers were neither damp nor cold. And, he reminded himself; Emily did not snore like a loud foghorn.

Eventually he sat up, stiff from the damp, and found a thin layer of mist teasing its way over both him and the cliff top. With a look of distaste, he pulled at his tee shirt, which clung uncomfortably to his damp skin. The mist clung to everything, his clothes, his hair, and his skin. It even dripped from the frames of his glasses. "Now, that must have been one hell of a party," he mused softly.

For a while, he didn't move, not sure he had either the energy or the inclination needed to force his legs to work. He watched tendrils of mist snake over the cliff edge and come toward him. Against the backdrop of the regular sound of at least two foghorns, the whole scene was very eerie.

He shivered, rubbing warmth into his arms, and scrambled to his feet. Something fluttered from his lap and he glanced down into the mist. A large white wing feather lay at his feet. Picking it up, Harry stroked it between his fingers, but didn't connect it with anything from the night before.

The idea of a hot drink and dry clothes spurred him across the otherwise deserted landscape towards the lighthouse. He let himself quietly into the kitchen and pulled the curtains back. A weak sun illuminated the clock - 5:10am it ticked loudly in the silence. Yawning, he picked up the electric kettle and put it on to boil. For a moment he stood still, eyes closed and drifted towards sleep again. Then, with a jolt, he came too and shook his head, trying to clear his mind. Yawning again, he took off his glasses, then his shirt and reached for a towel. He vigorously rubbed at his hair and dried the dampness from his body before staring at his reflection in a small mirror.

"What a mess!" He ran a hand through his hair, trying to make some order out of the dark locks. It stuck up all over the place and refused to lay flat. In fact, Harry blinked at the reflection, it refused to even look like the same hair he had combed the previous evening. The shock of finding his hair was no longer short and tidy was so complete that Harry didn't even feel shocked. He just stared blankly at the untidy, nearly collar-length hair, which now looked just as it had three years before.

He remembered Aunt Petunia chopping all his hair off one evening. The following day, it had grown back to almost the same style. "Magic," he mumbled. "Bloody magic!" This was not a reflection of his pleasure, but an indication of his annoyance. He raked at the dark strands and wondered how on earth he would ever be able to explain it.

Then it all came flooding back. Events in the car, collapsing at the party, the strange dream-like vision, a lion, sitting out on the cliff in the middle of the night, Hedwig.

Hedwig!

Harry spun round and grabbed at the feather. Had his owl really been there? Was this one of her feathers? Was she still his owl after three years? Stupid question! And ... There had been someone out there with him on the cliff. Someone who had held him while he cried. 

The click of the kettle as it turned off was very loud in the silent kitchen. Harry didn't notice as he slumped onto the chair and stared at the feather, his green eyes wide with disbelief.

He didn't hear the door open or the soft foot falls on the wooden floor. In fact, he was so preoccupied with his own thoughts that even the touch on his shoulder didn't make him jump; he merely looked up and into Emily's face.

She leaned forward and kissed him on the temple, near the outer corner of his eye. "Where did you get too? I thought you might have decided to walk out on me." Her arms snaked around Harry's bare shoulders, fingers linking lightly together across his chest.

Harry placed the feather carefully on the table and reached for Emily's fingers. "I just needed some air and I fell asleep outside." He leaned back into her, drawing warmth into his body and remembered the warmth of the person out on the cliff top, the feeling of complete security the embrace had left him with. Now he felt lost and confused. Unsure of anything. "Did you miss me?"

"What do you think? It worries me that you go wandering off on that cliff in the dark. One day you'll forget where the edge is." She leaned her face against his hair, which felt different, softened by the mist. Lazily, she pulled a hand free and ran it through the dark strands. A frown creased her forehead. It seemed different, just a little more curly at the ends, fuller, silkier than she remembered. Maybe it was the gel he'd been using, but there was something about Harry's hair that she she'd never noticed before.

She let go and moved round to face him, sitting on the edge of the table. She reached up and buried her fingers into his hair, pushing it back from his face. From the front it didn't seem so different, but she was sure it didn't normally curl around his neck like that. Jade eyes met her own and there was a far-away look in them, one that she recognised with some concern. Harry could become very melancholy when the mood grabbed him. As though he was a million miles away or, as Ron sometimes put it, in a different galaxy. It would go as quickly as it came, and she knew that by tomorrow he would be back to his old self. But when he got like this, he was a different person, caught up in something she knew nothing about.

"Did you have a good day yesterday?"

"Umm." He leaned forward, his head in her lap.

Emily felt his hands ball up into her dressing gown, holding onto the fabric. She'd gotten used to these strange moments of darkness from him. He would become quiet, introspective and go wandering off into the night. So far, he had never answered her questions about what troubled him so deeply, but one day, she would find out. But not now, not until he was ready to confide in her. Instead, she just sat there, cradling him and gently stroking his hair.

******************

Draco Malfoy woke feeling like he had spent the night in the Sleazy Weasel drinking copious Mai Tais and other intoxicating beverages. His mouth felt like the inside of something unmentionable and just the merest hint of a headache crashed like a brick against the inside of his skull. For a while he debated whether dying might be a good option, but in the end decided against that strategy - at least for the time being anyway.

Instead he carefully hauled himself onto an elbow and reached for the glass on his bedside cabinet. The glass, bewitched to refill and keep the water fresh, was emptied and he dropped back down to the pillows.

Even with the thundering headache, Draco had a completely clear recollection of the previous day's events. So clear, it was as if someone had chiselled it onto the surface of his brain: events in his father's vault where Lucius usually held his Death Eater meetings, the burst of energy which had passed through him, Potter in the car, the scar on his own neck. Even the _Imperius Curse_ Voldemort had cast at the party. He wondered whether the after-effects of the curse were the basis of the hangover-like symptoms and decided it was probably the case. After all, he'd hardly drunk anything at the party. Then he wondered whether he might still be under the curse, but decided he wasn't because if he were, he wouldn't realise and therefore wouldn't be having this conversation with himself.

Without even touching it, he was aware of the scar near his throat. It seemed to itch, but not in an irritating way, as if reminding him of its existence. He wondered why Voldemort had bothered using _Imperius_. It was highly unlikely he would have answered the Dark Lord's questions with "Bugger off you old fraud, get someone else to do your dirty work". Of course, Draco knew Voldemort had been throwing his weight around to show just who was in control of events. He'd wanted to make sure Draco understood just how easy it was for someone to control him.

It was strange how alike Lucius and Voldemort were, Draco pondered. Both men took great delight in being in control and neither had any qualms about using violence to prove a point or to make others toe the line. If he hadn't known different, Draco might have assumed they had always been one and the same person.

He paused, the thought causing the brick to slam even harder into the sides of his skull. No ... that wasn't possible. Draco had been told all the stories of what had happened to the Dark Lord after he attacked Potter as a baby. He knew how Voldemort had been reduced to a being without form, but able to inhabit other peoples' bodies, as he had done with Professor Quirrell during Draco's first year at Hogwarts. Lucius had even told Draco how the Dark Lord had risen again into human form after the Triwizard Tournament in his fourth year.

But what if Voldemort had taken over his father's body years before the Final Battle? What if the two had been one since the Triwizard rebirth? What if ...

No! That wasn't possible. Surely Draco would have known. Would have realised this man was not the father of his boyhood. But he hadn't realised for the last three years, had he?

Draco closed his eyes and let his body go limp, sinking into the feather mattress. It was a nightmare. Perhaps he was actually asleep and would wake up and find it was the morning of his 21st birthday and none of this had actually happened. Some hope of that. It was more likely to snow in hell first!

He didn't move for a while, aware of a strand of hair tickling his cheek. He concentrated on the sensation, grateful for something so normal and ordinary to occupy his mind.

Well, whatever Voldemort was planning, Draco decided he wasn't just going to lie around and wait. He had a life to lead - things to do - places to go - and he wasn't going to bow down and let him take everything.

Unless, of course, Voldemort used _Imperius_ again, then what choice did he have?

Feeling just a little ambivalent towards his 'master', Draco sat up, his teeth clenched. There had to be an answer to this. One that didn't involve him getting killed. Normally he managed to find answers, so why should this be any different?

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and noticed for the first time he was still dressed in his clothes from the previous evening. "Oh, no!" he scowled, wondering just what state he'd been in and who had dumped him on the bed.

Cross at everyone, he stripped off the clothes and stomped, naked, to the bathroom.

********************

**_Thursday 16th August 2001_**

Severus Snape hadn't changed much over the years. He still had black shoulder-length hair and the same black beetle-like eyes. He still had the same sour look, which said 'everyone is against me'. And he still dressed in the same black robes he had always worn even though he was no longer a teacher.

He also felt very out of place in Hermione's lounge. It was too ... Muggle for his liking and for some reason it made him uneasy to be sitting in the big squashy armchair while trying to have a serious conversation. Or perhaps it was the fact Crookshanks; Hermione's big ginger cat, was sitting on the floor in front of him, staring at him with his big lamp-like eyes. Snape had surreptitiously tried to shoo the animal away with a quick flick of his foot, but that had only served to make the cat more intent on remaining.

Of course, he might also be feeling uncharitable because taking up the remaining pieces of furniture were a gaggle of ex-Gryffindor students, all of whom he had picked on, given detention to, or subsequently punished in someway over the years they had been at Hogwarts. But he had promised Dumbledore he would keep an eye on them and whether he liked it or not, they had saved his life. Yet another reason to hate them. Ron and Hermione were on the settee, while Fred and George were sitting in the two remaining armchairs. He was grateful the twins now had different hairstyles - at least he could tell them apart.

He cleared his throat and cast his black eyes around the four people watching him, pleased to see they all looked suitably subdued and contrite. He held up the piece of paper the twins had found in Harry's car and finally spoke. "I have..."

The sound of the rear door crashing open made everyone jump and the youngsters turned as one towards the door leading to the kitchen, four wands pointing in the general direction. Snape's lips became a thin line at the interruption.

"Sorry I'm late." A voice yelled from the kitchen. "I got caught in a storm over the New Forest." There was a crash of bells and a tinkle of broken glass. "Sorry," the voice shouted again. "I've got my broom caught."

Hermione scrambled to her feet and rushed to the door. "Excuse me," she said politely.

The door flew open, catching Hermione and she stumbled back a couple of paces, straight into Snape's chair. Snape's hands caught her, but not before she ended up almost in his lap.

Neville Longbottom tried to pull her back to her feet. "Oh, Hermione, I'm so sorry. I didn't..." He suddenly realised who was sitting in the chair and despite being nearly 22 years old, his face flushed red to the tips of his ears. "Professor, I..." he gulped. 

"Longbottom." That single word reduced Neville back into a quivering 11-year-old. Back then, as a first year, he had been a slightly over-weight, round-faced boy with a forgetful memory. Now he was almost as tall as Ron and had lost much of the puppy fat. He still had a round face, however, which had a habit of betraying his true feelings.

Neville pushed his long hair from his face and worked hard at convincing himself he was no longer one of Snape's students. He was training to be an Auror, as his parents had been, and despite Snape's lack of faith in him as a boy, Neville was now usually top of his class. "Professor," he nodded at the older man and reached out a hand to help Hermione back to her feet. "I'm sorry," he said again, this time directing his words to the woman. "I caught my broomstick in your wind chimes and pulled them down. They broke one of your vases." 

"It's okay." She pulled away from him, as his robes were wet with rain, no doubt from the storm over the New Forest.

"Shall I go and fix it?"

"No, don't worry. I'll do it later. Do you need a towel?"

Neville shook his head and, giving Snape a sideways glance, drew out his wand. It might have been his imagination, but he thought for a moment everyone shied away from him. With a silent tut, he waved the wand up his body and intoned a drying spell. Much to everyone's surprise, it worked like a dream and he took off the now dry cloak and sat down on the arm of the settee.

No one spoke. "Did I say I was sorry for being late?" Everyone except Snape smiled.

"As I was about to say," Snape finally spoke. "I have been trying to unravel what has been used in the potion impregnated in this paper and..."

"May I?" Neville held out his hand for the paper Snape was holding.

"Very well!" He said sharply and passed it to the young man. "The potion is a form of _Speculumous_, a very strong mirroring spell used to link two distant subjects together. One person will feel an echo of any spell cast on the other. The spell is normally one way - trigger to target, but it can also be cast to work in either direction. This potion has additional ingredients I have so far been unable to identify. It is possible they will make the potion work differently."

"So, what you are saying," Ron stretched his legs out in front of him and studied the toes of his shoes, "is that someone is linked to Harry now?"

Snape nodded. "In a manner of speaking. Usually the link is only through the spells. Not day-to-day living. If the standard potion were used and, for instance, you and Longbottom were linked by it, it would not affect either of you in the normal course of events. But, if I put a Body Bind curse on Longbottom, you would experience an echo of that curse - anything from a mild paralysis to the full thing depending on the distance involved and the power of the curse."

"But why?" George was fiddling with his ponytail as he thought things through. "Why not just put the Body Bind curse onto Ron?"

"Simple, Weasley, I don't have your brother in my immediate vicinity. He is miles, perhaps hundreds of miles away. What I do have is Longbottom who I can curse to my heart's content because he is trapped in my evil clutches."

"That's horrible," Hermione responded, shocked.

"Dark Magic is not supposed to be nice. It would defect the object if it were. I have seen this used several times in the past when I was..." Snape paused, not wanting to remind them of the fact he had once been a Death Eater and a supporter of Voldemort. "When the Dark Lord was at the height of power he used the curse to destroy the will of those who were against him. There would be a trigger person, who could be anyone, who he would link through the Mirror spell with his target, the person he wished to destroy. Once the spell was cast, he could use, for example, the _Cruciatus_ on the trigger and the echo of that curse would be felt by the target. He would curse the trigger as often as he wanted, sometimes for a few seconds or maybe for hours. Of course, it eventually destroyed the trigger, but the effect on the target was that of a dripping tap. It slowly drained away their power and resolve. It would almost be as though they were wasting away."

"What would happen," Hermione asked, "if something like _Avada Kedavra_ was used?"

"The trigger would die immediately, of course, and the target would also die." Snape paused, "Not necessary immediately, but within hours depending on how far he was from the trigger and the strength of the original potion. It turned _Avada Kedavra_ into a slow torture for the victim."

Neville looked up from the paper. "This is a very strong potion. I'm picking up some very strong ingredients. There's Asphodel. And..." His eyes suddenly widened. "There's unicorn blood in it." 

Snape raised an eyebrow as though he was impressed. "Taken from a live animal I believe."

Neville seemed shaken, but he took a calming breath. Then, raising his wand over the paper, he closed his eyes. "I think the residue on this paper isn't the actual potion. It's just been handled as an afterthought. The caster used an intermediary - a woman - to give the potion. As for the caster, I'm not getting any information on them." His eyes opened, the pupils appearing very large as he stared off into the distance. "The potion was given skin-to-skin which makes it much more powerful then if Harry had just handled it on the paper. If it got into a wound or an old scar..." His eyes locked with Snape's and for the first time he saw respect in them. "If it's got into his blood, we won't be able to stop it. It might also explain why Harry is using magic again after shutting it down so completely. Unlike the other hexes they've used on him, this is powerful enough to kick-start him back into action."

"Well done, Longbottom. Fifty points to Gryffindor." Even when being congratulatory, Snape's voice was tinged with sarcasm. "Miss Granger, what did you feel when you were tracking Potter?"

Hermione was too busy staring open-mouthed to reply. It was Ron who finally answered. "She kept saying Harry's scar was bleeding; that there was blood on his hands. Last night I did a card reading and some runic work and I kept coming up with lightning covered in blood."

"This is all very well. This doom and gloom stuff." Fred scrambled to his feet. "But can we have some positive vibes here as well. Enough of the evil forces stuff, let's get back to the cure."

"There is none." Snape was blunt

"There must be."

"No," Neville interjected. "The Professor's right. There isn't one apart from the death of the trigger or that of the target."

Hermione closed his mouth. "There has to be something else."

Snape sat back in his chair. "You find out who is the trigger and get them away from the caster of the spell."

"I can live with that." George wiggled a finger at Snape. "How do we find out who's been cursed?"

Snape shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. It could be anyone, even one of you. We have no way of knowing, short of the caster telling us."

"Neville, tell me he's wrong."

"Can't. He's right."

"Then are you saying there's nothing any of us can do?" Ron's voice had started to rise, as he got more and more frustrated with the inaction. "That we just sit back and let this happen?"

'We can protect him," Neville pointed out. "If he were here now and a curse was put on the trigger, we would be able to nullify the effect. We can't stop it, but we would be able to make it much less effective."

"And Potter needs to have his own protection. His wand and his own very powerful magical abilities," Snape added.

The room became very quiet and no one seemed to want to look at each other. Finally Hermione cleared her throat. "How are we going to do that?"

Snape looked skyward and mouthed an obscenity. "No wonder you were all in Gryffindor! Stop being stupid for just a moment and use the intelligence I know you all have." His gaze left the ceiling and raked over the five individuals who suddenly looked like they were all very young children. "TALK TO HIM! Tell Potter what is going on." 

"But..."

"There is no 'but', Weasley. He has to be told even if he decides to do nothing about it. And if you don't talk to him, then I will." 

Ron looked down the line of people who, as usual, looked back at him, expecting him to make a decision. "Okay, Professor, why don't you go and talk to him."

That was not the response Snape expected and the look he gave Ron would be the subject of hours of mirth in the Weasley household for months to come. "Very well," was the only thing Snape could think of saying.

********************

**_Friday 17th August 2001_**

Harry flicked idly through the magazine, occasionally stopping to read a few words or to study a photograph. He lay sprawled along the length of the settee, legs crossed at the ankles and back propped against several cushions. Rain splattered against the windowpanes, making the room feel like it was cut off from the rest of the world. 

Emily was sat at the dining table, her laptop open in front of her. She was trying to write an article for one of Ron's magazines, but it was proving to be a taxing experience. She pressed a finger on the backspace key and wiped out the last sentence. "Bugger."

Harry glanced at her over the top of his rimless glasses. "Language."

"You can shut up too." She twisted round towards him, an arm resting on the back of her chair. "Haven't you got anything more constructive to do?"

"No."

"You could go out and take some photographs..."

"It's raining."

"... of the rain."

"I'm quite happy here, thanks." He flicked over another page.

"You're interfering with my concentration."

He gave a laugh. "How? I've hardly made a sound for at least 20 minutes."

"You're just..." Emily gestured with her hands, "here!"

"Well, pardon me for breathing."

She stood and sauntered over to the settee and sat down beside Harry's thigh. He shifted slightly to give her more room. "You're just very distracting. I'm trying to work and all the time I can hear you rustling."

"Rustling?"

Emily pulled the magazine from his hands, "Rustling," and dropped it on the floor. "It's very off putting."

"Sorry. I'll try and rustle more quietly next time." His hand wandered to her leg.

"Good." Reaching forward, Emily removed his glasses. The green eyes met her hazel ones with a playful sparkle. "So, how do you fancy doing some proof reading?" The glasses were placed carefully on the coffee table.

"In the middle of the afternoon?" Harry gave a good impression of being shocked.

"Go on..." she leaned forward and kissed him, "...live a little." 

Harry bent his knees; the movement bringing Emily closer, and his hand ran up her side, pulled at her shirt. "Well, I guess I can spare you a few minutes in my otherwise exhaustive schedule." His other hand moved to her shoulder and he pulled her towards him. "Got any correction fluid?" Emily giggled into the kiss.

The doorbell rang.

The sound was sudden and unexpected. They sprang apart as though caught doing something very wrong. "Bugger." It was Harry's turn to swear. "Are you expecting someone?"

"No." She shook her head. "Perhaps if we keep quiet they will go away. It's probably just tourists wanting to look round."

"In this weather?"

The bell rang again, this time sounding angry, if it was possible for a bell to have an emotion. Emily shifted, pulling her shirt back down, and stood. "Don't go away. I'll get rid of whoever it is." She squared her shoulders and headed into the hall.

Harry didn't move. If there was one thing Emily was good at, it was getting rid of unwanted visitors. He lay back against the pillows, closed his eyes and let out a contented sigh. Maybe, if he started undoing some buttons now, it would save time when she got back. A wicked grin slowly spilled across his face. Maybe he could take everything off and...

"Harry." Emily's voice did not sound like someone waiting to play. 

He heard her close the door and he looked backwards over his shoulder just enough to make eye contact. "Have they gone?"

"Umm, no. There's someone calling himself Professor Snape wanting to see you. He..." She watched as Harry almost fell off the settee in his struggle to sit up. "...says you know him."

Harry struggled to his feet, shirt hanging out untidily from one side of his trousers, and grabbed for his glasses. "Snape?" he hissed. "Here?"

"He's in the hall."

"Here? What does he want?"

"How should I know? I'm not a mind reader. He's a bit, well, strange."

"That's an understatement."

"And I don't know how he got here. There's no sign of a car or anything. We'll probably have to call him a taxi if we want to get rid of him."

"Well," Harry tucked his shirt back into place. "I've called him worse than that in my time. I guess I'd better talk to him." He ran his fingers through his hair, still the same length as he'd found it the day after his birthday. He had considered shortening it with a spell, but decided against it. Magic without a wand wasn't an exact science and he was worried something serious might go wrong. He certainly didn't want to end up blond, or. So far, no one had commented on it, not even Emily. Maybe it was a wizarding thing. Maybe Muggles didn't notice the fact his hair had grown.

Emily opened the door. "Professor, please come in. May I take you ... umm ... cloak?" She gave an exaggerated smile at the strange outer garment; especially considering it was still the middle of summer.

Snape stepped into the room and stared across at Harry as he released the silver clasp. "Thank you." He folded the cloak and handed it to Emily. "Potter," he finally nodded at Harry.

And Harry tried not to laugh. He had never seen Snape dressed in anything but black wizarding robes. His ex-potions teacher dressed rather bizarrely in beige corduroy Quidditch trousers and what was clearly an old Slytherin sweater - dark green with a silver stripe across the chest. It wasn't so much the clothes he found amusing, but the fact Snape actually did wear something under his robes. He wondered whether his bet with Seamus Finnigan was still valid after all these years. Seamus had always claimed Snape wore nothing! Harry finally spoke. "Afternoon, Professor." He held a hand out towards Emily. "This is Emily Shaw. Emily, this is one of my teachers from college. He taught ... chemistry."

The three stood watching at each other, and then Emily broke the silence. "I'll just hang this up." She indicated the cloak. "Would you like tea or coffee?"

"No, thank you. I need to talk with ... Harry ... alone."

She looked shocked at his bluntness and Harry was worried she might argue. Instead she gave Snape a very hard stare and in a clipped voice she responded. "I'll be in the study if you need anything." The door slammed behind her.

"I see you've been taking lessons in diplomacy since we last met." Harry folded his arms across his chest and didn't ask Snape to sit down.

Snape ignored the boy's sarcasm. "I could hardly have this conversation with a Muggle in the room. Or have you told her the truth?"

"No, she doesn't know anything about ... my past."

"Then it's a good thing I sent her away."

"You'd better sit down." Harry indicated a chair, but remained standing himself.

Snape didn't move. "Potter, I need you to listen carefully to what I am about to say. Someone has put a very powerful curse on you." 

"Excuse me?"

"Shut up and listen." Snape stepped towards the young man, his voice low. "You have been effectively poisoned by a potion called a _Speculumus_." He saw Harry look down at his right hand. "How it works isn't important, but you are in great danger from it." Harry finally sat, unable to speak. "I see no reason to beat about the bush."

Standing over Harry, Snape quickly went on to explain to him what had happened and the consequences. As he spoke, Harry, who had been sitting on the edge of his chair, slipped further and further backwards, his face surprisingly calm, but his emerald eyes wide in horror.

When he finished, Snape finally sat, feeling a sense of satisfaction at Harry's distress. It wasn't nice, but it did make up for all the insults the boy had traded over the years. "Now, tell me what has happened to you since your birthday."

Harry took a breath and began, explaining what had happened to him since the car journey from London. Surprisingly, by the time he had finished, Harry had calmed down a little and no longer felt the need to run around like a headless chicken. Snape, however, looked genuinely concerned, especially when Harry recounted his encounter with the cliff edge. " I did wonder if it might be _Imperius_," Harry offered. "But it felt different."

Snape knew it was different from a simple _Imperius_ curse. He had experienced something similar through his own link with the Dark Lord and it was only through Dumbledore's faith in him that Snape had overcome that Darkness himself. "There is very powerful dark magic around you at the moment, Potter. Dark magic is almost a life force, capable of its own actions if given the right incantations. It can force you to do its bidding. Captivate you into thinking an action is your own free will. That is what tried to send you over the edge of the cliff. You were fortunate to have been distracted."

"And when I collapsed. Was that the same?"

"No, I think that was the echo of an _Imperius_ curse on the trigger. It will feel very different from the curse actually being used directly on you. Now, you mentioned a photograph."

Harry nodded. "Just a minute." He left the room and returned with a printout of Isabel's photo, clearly showing the over-laid image. "The others are just normal prints. I saw the dual-image through the viewfinder as well."

Snape took the print, studying it.

"Do you know who they are?"

The professor's face had become set, betraying nothing. Of course he knew. The older woman was Narcissa Malfoy. He had attended Hogwarts with the woman. Had been a guest at her wedding. Had been a Death Eater with her husband. Had been betrayed by her.

Should he tell Potter? Lucius Malfoy did have the knowledge to use _Speculumus_, even Snape, himself, could make the potion. But was Malfoy really powerful enough to actually cast the curse, especially with the added element of using an intermediary? If he did have that power, then Malfoy was even more dangerous than most people thought.

He decided not to say more until he had confirmed his own fears. "I'm not sure. I will check it out." Snape got to his feet. "I think we should leave."

"We?"

"Yes. Haven't you been listening? It's not safe for you to remain here. You need to be where there is strong magic to protect you." Snape waved a hand absently around the room. "There is nothing here." 

Harry's mouth set in a hard determined line. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Have you have been listening to what I have just told you?"

"I made my decision and I'm not leaving."

Harry had expected Snape to get angry or something along those lines. Instead he just stared hard at him until Harry looked away. "Just as Black said you would."

Harry's head snapped back. "You've spoken to Sirius?"

"Unfortunately."

"Is he okay?"

"What do you think?" Snape's voice was even harder than usual and he did nothing to hide his contempt for the man. "Since you left, he has been trying to deal with the fallout of the Dark Lord's death. Things are very different now, Potter. You may have killed the Master, but his servants are now running the show."

"I assumed everything would settle down."

"Oh, it has settled. But not in the way you might expect. Lucius Malfoy is now in charge, which is very similar to giving a fox the run of the chicken coup."

"Malfoy is Minister of Magic? That's ridiculous. He was one of Voldemort's key people."

Snape tried not to wince at the use of the name of the man he once served. "Mr Malfoy purports to be a 'changed man'. People see him as some great philanthropist now - throwing his largess for all the down-trodden masses." He paused. "But that is getting off topic. Your godfather is Deputy Minister so at least he can keep an eye on things."

Harry gave a wistful smile. "I bet that made the headlines of _The Daily Prophet_. Ex-Azkaban prisoner finally makes it to the big time. Do you know how everyone else is?" He met Snape's black gaze. "Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger..."

"What do you care about them?" Snape's voice became hurtful. "If you won't be sensible, then the least you can do is to try to protect yourself. Here." Snape produced a wand.

It happened so quickly Harry didn't see where it came from. He took it, knowing it was his own without even having to look. It sent a tingle through his hand and arm, which continued through the whole of his body. "Thank you," was all he could think to say.

"And that bracelet." Snape wiggled a finger at the twin cords from Harry's presents that he still had tied round his left wrist. "It's been imbibed with some very strong protection magic. You should change it to your right wrist - your wand hand."

"Oh," Harry twisted the cord. "Then you must know who sent it." 

"Of course I do, Potter. Weasley, Granger, Longbottom and others are all there for you. What sort of life do you think your friends have had? Did you imagine they were sitting around enjoying themselves? Who do you think has been looking after your?"

"I don't understand."

"Think then! Did you really believe you could just leave after what you did to the Dark Lord? Didn't it occur to you that his followers would hunt you down? Death Eaters don't forgive, they get even. They want you dead." He came to his feet, and Harry rose as well. "Don't be afraid to ask for help, Potter." He held out his own wand, "_Accio_," and his cloak appeared. He pulled it around his shoulders. "Don't try to deal with this on your own. If you do you will get us all killed."

With that he disapparated, leaving nothing in the room but a faint trace of his magic.

Harry stared at the spot the wizard had occupied a few seconds before, unable to move. In his hand the wand felt like the only part of him still alive. He felt like he was on a roller coaster - one moment he was up in the air and everything was fine. Then the next he was plunging downwards into the depths, confused, lost, in darkness. 

He had been telling himself for days that everything would work out in the end, but each time he thought he was dealing with this, something else got thrown into the pot and he was back at the beginning again.

Harry held up his wand and turned it over and over in his hands. This only made things worse. Trying the odd spell without a wand was one thing, but now he had his wand back, how could he NOT use magic? Before he could change his mind, he raised the wand and let it swish downwards. A cascade of gold and red sparks streamed from the wand, dancing around the room like a shower of fireflies on a summers evening. He reached up, feeling the sparks burst against his skin, the sensation like bubbles popping.

Then he plunged into darkness again. How could he have been so stupid after that final battle with Voldemort? What was it Snape had said to him. "Did you really believe you could just leave?" Actually, yes he had. He assumed he could just ride off into the sunset and everyone would forget about him. Had he been happily playing at Muggle, while all the time Ron, Hermione and others had been 'looking after him'?

He thought about Emily and wondered what he should tell her. The truth? Nothing? If Snape was telling the truth, then Emily was equally in danger and he needed to do something to protect her. A flicker of a smile ghosted on his face as he pictured her in the study no doubt sticking pins into an effigy of Snape. She would be even angrier at the fact the professor had left before she had the chance to get even.

Harry looked his wand again, wandering what he should do with it. He knew he should keep it with him, but Muggle clothes didn't contain the wonderful pockets of wizarding robes. The last of the stars finally disappeared as Harry felt the words _Let go_ echo through his mind. After a brief hesitation, he released the wand. It didn't fall to the ground, but floated serenely close to his hand. 

"Well, I'll be..." Harry raised his hand and the wand followed, mirroring the movement. It dodged around other objects, all the time remaining close to Harry's side. And when he silently 'asked' the wand to come to his hand, it was there in a heartbeat. He couldn't help but grin as the darkness lifted.

He released the wand again and intoned "_Abstrudere_." The wand faded away to nothing, but he could still sense it by his side. Now, if only he could placate Emily as easily. He headed for the door. "Come on."

The invisible wand let out a few sparks just to reassure Harry it was still there.

--------------------

**Next chapter: **Harry has his birthday party and gets to met loads of old friends (and gets to make out with even more people) and things get worse for Draco.

**Thanks: **Draco's soft spot for Mai Tais and visits to the Sleazy Weasel are borrowed from Cassandra Claire's _Draco Veritas_ series. Thanks for letting me borrow them, Cassandra. 

In reply to a question about character ages (Isn't Ron the eldest, then Harry then Hermione?): In my world Hermione (19th September 1979) is the eldest, then Ron (1st March 1980), then Harry (31st July 1980). In Britain, there is a cut-off date for starting senior school (age 11+). The person must be 11 by 1st September. So for Hermione to start Hogwarts on 1st September, she needs to be 11 already. Otherwise she would have to wait until the following year. My own brother, whose birthday is 9th September was almost 12 when he started senior school and was, therefore, the eldest in class. Another brother, whose birthday was 15th August was only just 11 when he started and was (probably like Harry) nearly the youngest.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I would have written to you all individually if I had emails! Special thanks to my lucky reviewer FringeElemntis (you're a bit like a cyberspace four-leaf clover now!). Also thanks to heiditandy, Shannon, AngelGoddess, coolgirl, lily, The Surgared Cheeseburger, summersun, The SuperSaiyan bearcat, *Britz*, jona, Lily, FeatherQuill, Midgee Dumledore, Snow, Sean_A_Green, Dao, Ocarion, Freda Potter, Molly_Hail, PepperjackCandy, aly alyandra_sg1, Mahree avocado, Hermione Gulliver, Elena ".", No Reply, Laura jazz_pearl, Sandra Solaria Dees, Always~a~kiwi~, Lily Vance, JediGinny, psycho angel, Sylvia Potter, Rube, funkyangelbabe, fio2 . Thank you all for sending my spell checker mad with your wonderful names. If I've missed anyone, sorry! Let me know.

Any reviews, are more than welcome, either on-line or at the above email. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

   [1]: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/PoU-Art/files/DS/new%20Harry.jpg



	5. Hedwig

COA4.html

**Title: Coming of Age: Chapter 5 - Hedwig (5/?)**

**Author name:** Frances Potter

**Author email:** frances@forever.u-net.com

**Category:** Just about everything: Angst/Darkfic, Mystery, a little Action/Adventure, some Romance!

**Keywords: **Harry, Hermione, Ron, Fred, George, Draco, Lucius, Voldemort and Hedwig.

**Spoilers:** All books

**Rating:** PG-13 (UK rating 12). (Non-explicit adult themes, some bad language, mental distress/violence)

**Summary: **After finally defeating Voldemort, 18-year-old Harry Potter leaves the wizarding world for good. Three years later, on his 21st birthday, Draco Malfoy finds out the Dark Lord isn't dead and he has plans not only for Draco but for Harry as well.

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author's Note: **Thanks to my wonderful Beta readers, Josie, Antares Altair, Emily and Thursday. Thanks for putting up with me constantly pestering you with questions.

**The Story so far... **At the end of his 7th year at Hogwarts, Harry thinks he has destroyed Voldemort for good. He decides to leave the Wizarding world. He has given up all things magical and is living as a Muggle with girlfriend Emily (who just happens to look a little like Hermione). Of course Voldemort isn't that easy to get rid of. The Dark Lord has taken over Lucius Malfoy's body and he has plans to destroy Harry for good using Draco. On their 21st birthdays (which coincidentally and conveniently fall on the same day, 31st July), Voldemort links Draco and Harry with a mirroring potion. This means Harry will feel any curse Voldemort puts on Draco. Draco is not a happy bunny! And for that matter, neither is Harry! The countdown is on for a Halloween neither of them will forget. Oh, and for those interested Hermione (who was Harry's girlfriend before he ran away) is living with Ron (important point later in the chapter)! 

********

**Coming of Age** **Chapter Five - _Hedwig_**

**_Saturday 18th August 2001_**

Emily stood by the kitchen door and watched Harry mow the lawn. He had already finished the flat area bordering the patio and was now working his way up a rather steep grassy slope. The electric mower ran noisily over the grass, spraying him with cuttings. He was attacking his work as if it was the most important thing in the universe even though the grass didn't really need cutting. 

She was finding him difficult to understand these days, with his constantly shifting moods. One moment he would be fine, and then he'd drop down into a brooding morass again. The problem was he refused to talk about it. He would just say he was fine and then go out and do something stupid like chopping wood or, as he was doing now, cutting the grass. And, she noted with irritation, he was still wearing that stupid bit of string on his wrist. 

"Harry." She walked across the patio to the edge of the lawn. "Harry!"

"What?" He shouted over the noise of the motor, but didn't stop. 

"You should come and get ready."

"I'm busy."

"We need to be off soon." He didn't respond.

Emily tapped a foot impatiently on the granite then turned on her heel. She strode to the power outlet and pulled out the plug. The motor ground to a halt. "I refuse to have a conversation over the noise of that thing."

He remained on the slope, bracing himself on his left leg, his right leg forward and the mower above him. "I am cutting the grass." He leaned against the mower handle, which reached to just above his waist. "You've been bugging me about it enough."

"I have not." She climbed the slope and stopped beside him. Harry was breathing deeply from the exertion and damp hair clung about his flushed face. "We need to be off in an hour." He didn't look at her. "To get to London. The Party. Remember?"

Harry let go of the handle and it fell to the ground. Pulling off his glasses, he grabbed at the hem of his vest and wiped his face. "I don't want to go."

"What?"

"I said I don't want to go. Cancel it."

"Now you are just being silly. There are nearly 100 people on their way to London to celebrate YOUR birthday."

He turned toward her, his chest still heaving. "It's my party. If I don't want to go, then it's up to me."

"For goodness sake, Harry, what is wrong with you? You've been in this ... this petulant mood since Professor Thingy..."

"Snape."

"...came yesterday. What on earth did he say to upset you so much?" He finally met her gaze. "Harry, will you please talk to me. If there's a problem, we can sort it out together."

"Nothing is wrong." _Apart from, _he wanted to tell her_, the fact someone has poisoned me and is using another poor bugger to torture me. And, I'm being dragged back into a world I thought I'd gotten rid of._

And that world was one of wands and magic.

He was very aware of his own wand, which hung beside him. Not in a pocket or up a sleeve as he used to keep it, but floating there - all by itself. The wand felt alive to him now, more so than he was ever aware of in the past. It seemed to be able to communicate with him mentally and if he wanted it to be in his hand, or to race around the garden, all he had to do was ask._ Go on then,_ he said to it and he could sense it moving off behind Emily. It appeared very briefly, as if it were winking, and disappeared again with a couple of silent sparks. He didn't understand it and what had been a novelty the previous day was now beginning to unnerve him. He closed his eyes for a moment and when he reopened them, he let out a long sigh. "Sorry, I'm just not sure I can deal with all those people."

Emily reached out to him and cradled his face in her hand. "Oh, Harry. Come on. You'll enjoy it when you get there." She kissed him. "They are your friends and want to celebrate with you.'

He opened his mouth to argue, but knew it was pointless, and a hint of a smile slowly spread across his face "Okay."

"And will you promise to talk to me about what's wrong?"

"There isn't anything."

She glowered at him. "Yeah, right! I'll go and run you a bath." She kissed him again and scrambled down the slope.

Harry watched the woman disappear into the house and then reached for the mower handle, dragging it down to the patio. There, he paused, again leaning on the handle. He couldn't get out of his mind what Snape had said to him. "Did you really believe you could just leave?" It had been playing over and over in his mind all night, and it made so much sense. He had destroyed Voldemort, so why shouldn't his followers want to get rid of Harry? But why wait so long? Why didn't they do it three years ago? Had they been waiting for someone like Lucius Malfoy to rise to power? Was Malfoy really powerful enough to control Voldemort's armies? And what about Sirius? How did he fit into all this?

He leaned forward, resting his forehead on his hands. It was probably his imagination, but he thought he could feel the poison in his body - in his very cells. Was Snape right? Should he give up everything he had here and go into hiding? He hadn't hidden from Voldemort all the years he'd fought the Dark Lord, so why should he run from his followers now?

And how did he know Snape was telling the truth about the curse? Dumbledore may have trusted him, but did his old headmaster really know whether the potions master was on Voldemort's side or not. 

Down at his feet, Harry saw Thomas staring up at him. The cat let out a meow that sounded like he had smoked 20 a day all his life. "Hi, Tom." Harry dropped a hand down and the animal rose on his haunches, butting his head against it. "What do you think I should do?" Meow. "Yeah?" Meow. "Will Emily mind?" Meow. "Oh. Okay." The cat weaved his way around Harry's legs before strolling off up the slope. 

Harry watched the fat animal waddle away. Now, if ever there was an animal that was part Kneazle, Thomas fitted the bill. He shook his head and finally managed a proper smile as he set about winding up the power cord.

********************

The party was not the horror Harry had envisaged. The hotel was nice; there was plenty of room, good food and pleasant music. He mixed happily with people, danced with others and even managed to be polite to his relatives. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia seemed to be the only ones not happy. They moaned to the lady on the reception desk about their room, tut-tutted over the buffet and complained about the vintage of the champagne.

Harry did not want to meet them and for about an hour managed to always be in a different part of the room from them. It was inevitable, however, that the Dursleys would eventually corner him and when the inevitable finally happened Harry mentally prepared himself for the onslaught.

"Harry, darling." Aunt Petunia all but threw herself at her nephew. She wrapped her long spindly arms around him and planted a big wet kiss on the corner of his mouth. Harry's face set in a hard line; at least he had moved quickly enough to prevent her from kissing him on the mouth. "Happy birthday. I know it was a couple of weeks ago, but it's lovely to see you. Did you get your present? Did it fit? Did you have a good time?" In between each sentence, Harry tried to answer, desperate to wipe the wet mark from his face, but she just didn't stop. It couldn't get any worse he told himself. He was wrong. "Oh, look. I've got lipstick on your face. Here, dear, let me get rid of it." She rummaged in her bag and produced a tissue, proceeding to wipe his face as though he were a five year old.

Harry did nothing. It was pointless arguing, just as it was pointless reminding her of the years he hadn't been her 'darling'. Outside of the circle of Dursleys he could see Emily grinning at him, mouthing that he should behave. One day he would tell her the whole story of his life with these people, and then she might understand why he disliked them so much. In fact, he would like nothing more than to never see them again, but the memory of Dumbledore telling him they were his only family and, thus, important, had always stayed. Despite everything they had done, he couldn't ignore them. 

"Hello, Petunia," he finally managed. "Thanks for coming. Vernon." He nodded at his uncle.

Vernon held out a hand waiting for Harry to shake it. It was fat and damp with perspiration. "Well, Harry, good to see you've made it to 21 and managed to make something of yourself at last."

The smile on Harry's face was so forced he thought for a moment it might crack. "I guess I've got you to thank for that. Always spurring me on." The sarcasm was lost on both aunt and uncle. Finally, Harry turned to his cousin, Dudley. His childhood tormentor, who had made Harry's life a misery.

Dudley was a few months older than Harry and had been spoilt rotten all his life. He had grown extraordinarily fat on the attempts of his parents to feed him everything and anything he wanted. Seven years before he had reached the size of a small whale and even his school matron at Smeltings intervened (mainly because he couldn't get a uniform to fit rather than on health grounds!).

Harry studied his cousin for a moment. Dudley was still overweight, but had lost a lot of weight since the gross-out days of his youth. Compared to Harry he was still huge, but then a sick insect would probably look like a log next to Harry. Harry was only five feet eight inches - tiny compared to Dudley's six feet one! And he never managed to put on weight even when told by one doctor that he was underweight for his height.

Dudley also looked like a criminal, Harry decided. His hair had been shaved almost completely off, as was the fashion, and he looked like a bouncer on some nightclub door (or, for those who watch the TV programme _EastEnders_, like Phil Mitchell!). He still had no neck to speak of, and Harry wondered how he managed to wear a tie. Hanging on Dudley's arm was a girl who was actually quite attractive considering who her date was. Well, it takes all sorts. 

"Hello, Dudley," Harry finally spoke. "How's university?"

Dudley smiled a thin-lipped smile as false as the one Harry wore. His mum and dad might have decided Harry was a 'good egg' after all, but Dudley still remembered his cousin was a wizard and how one of his wizard friends had made him grow a pig's tail. "Great. Start my final year next month." Dudley was studying something to do with engineering at Oxford, no doubt so he would be able to join Grunnings, his father's company, and make drills. "This is Pia. She's in one of my study groups." He waved a hand at the woman. "Pia, this is Harry, my cousin."

Pia smiled at Harry. "Dudders tells me you take photographs." She had a posh upper-class accent, Harry nodded. "Anything risqué?"

Harry smiled broadly, deliberately turning on the charm. His green eyes shone like emeralds. "Sometimes," he whispered breathlessly, The look on Dudley's face was classic.

"Well," She moved closer and touched his arm with a long fingernail. "If you ever need a model, I might be available."

Harry debated for a split second how it might upset Dudley even more if he kissed Pia and decided he didn't care. He took Pia's hand and kissed the back of it just where the fingers joined. "I'll bear it in mind. Have a lovely evening, Pia. Maybe we can dance later." 

She giggled and looked suitably miffed when Dudley dragged her away.

Vernon and Petunia trailed after their son and Harry waved a hand at them. "See you later." Then more quietly, "when hell freezes over." He heaved a sigh of relief and wiped the back of his hand across his face. He could still feel the Mark of Petunia burning on his skin. He needed to find a bathroom to wash his face.

He turned, straight into a group of people and nearly knocked a woman over. "Oh, sorry." He steadied her and she turned to look at him. His mouth dropped open. She was astonishingly beautiful, with platinum blond hair, reaching almost to the middle of her back and the most incredible golden eyes. She wore no make up and her skin was coloured by a slight tan, but it retained a translucent, Mother of Pearl, quality. Her fingers were long, ending in the perfectly manicured nails.

"Did I say I was sorry?"

The woman smiled. "Yes, I think you did." He had expected her voice to be high, but it was deeper, like an oboe rather than a clarinet, and it seemed to sing to him. She held out her hand. "You must be Harry. I recognise the eyes."

"Oh." He was used to people saying they 'recognised the scar', not his eyes. He took hold of the fingers, his own normally graceful hands feeling very clumsy. "Do I know you?"

She smiled, the feathers around the neck of her white dress fluttering slightly. "Well, in a manner of speaking. We have mutual friends, which is why I'm here."

Harry was so flummoxed he didn't even think to ask who the mutual friends were. He also forgot to release her hand.

"Will you dance with me, Harry?"

"If ... if you like."

The band had just started playing a slow number. She led him onto the dance floor and turned him towards her. She put his hand on her waist, and Harry felt the warmth of her skin through the sheer silk. Her left hand rested gently on his shoulder and their free hands entwined.

Harry could have remained like that all night, just standing there on the edge of the dance floor. He couldn't remember how to dance. All there was were the golden eyes and the pressure of her hands. Later, Emily would tell him what a graceful couple they had made, how she hadn't known what a good dancer he was. But Harry didn't remember dancing a step.

When the music finished, he became aware of how close they now were, the length of their bodies almost touching, her feathers tickling his skin. "Thank you," he whispered, taking in for the first time they were the same height and the woman's face was perfectly aligned with his.

"It was a pleasure." She moved her hand from Harry's shoulder and touched his face where Petunia had kissed him. It felt like the touch purified his skin. "Do you mind if I give you a birthday kiss?"

Harry shook his head and whispered, "No." He had expected a kiss on his cheek, but she leaned forward, her lips resting on his, the contact as gentle as a feather. The touch was the most sensual he could ever remember experiencing and he though the might just pass out at her feet.

She pulled away. "I have to go now. But I will be there when you need me."

"But..."

"Shh." She placed a finger on his lips. "No questions."

"I don't know your name."

"Of course you do." She reached to her sleeve, pulled a slim white feather from it and handed it to Harry. Then, without a word she walked into the crowd.

Too shocked to follow, Harry stared at the feather in his hand, partner to the one back at the lighthouse. "Hedwig?"

********************

The August sun was setting over the Malfoy Estate, low over the treetops. The Elizabethan castle, complete with battlements, stood on the site of a much older building, destroyed during the persecutions of the 1500s only to rise from the ashes years later. The Malfoys were one of the oldest Wizarding families in Britain and they had always had no qualms about exploiting their wealth and position to further their aims.

Draco Malfoy stood at the top of the stone steps leading down to a formal garden, complete with fountain and topiary hedges. The sun shone into his eyes as it just tipped above the trees, but he didn't shield them with his hand. Eyelids fluttered closed and the insides where bathed bright red from the light with the tree outlines etched in negative below. The image slowly faded to black and he turned to lean against the stone balustrade.

He had spent a great day in London at Diagon Alley, the first great day since his disastrous birthday. Of course, he could have arranged for the new books from Flourish and Blotts and other supplies for a new potion he wanted to try to be delivered, but he needed an excuse to get away from the house, wanted someone other than his mother and servants to talk to.

Lucius - at least the physical form of his father - had been away since the night of Draco's birthday and the only person actually missing him seemed to be Narcissa. Of course, Draco realised she knew that the Dark Lord had taken over Lucius' body and it was actually Voldemort, rather than her husband, who she missed. She wandered around the house in a daze, mooning about like a teenager. Draco certainly didn't miss his physical presence, but Voldemort was with him constantly. He felt a sensation of the Dark Lord's aura in his mind all the time now, like an electrical tingle reminding him he had been marked.

The books and potion were Draco's attempt at finding out what Voldemort had done to him. He needed to find out what spell Voldemort had used on him. Only then could he even attempt a counter-curse. He didn't really expect to get answers from such mundane books, but the castle library had been locked and he was forbidden to use it. He hadn't realised how much he took access to the extraordinary collection of books for granted until it was taken away from him. Voldemort must know how methodical Draco was at research and clearly didn't want him to have access to anything that might help him.

Draco had been lucky. With no financial worries, he had graduated from school without concerns of career or job satisfaction. He's spent the last three years playing Seeker on a team owned by his father and indulging in test flying broomsticks during the out-of-season periods. Lucius had made him resign at the end of the previous season - something about Narcissa being worried about her son's safety. Draco had thought it strange, but who was he to argue. He was used to doing what his father wanted, normally without question.

Now, of course, the reason was clear. Lucius didn't expect him to be around when the new season started. It would probably be a good idea, Draco mused, for him to cancel his Readers Wizarding Digest subscription!

He knew he should leave. Just pack his bags and go. But where would he go? He was rich, but everything was tied up in Lucius' name. Draco had no cash to speak of, everything was charged and that facility would be turned off the moment his disappearance was noted. 

Of course, he could steal the family silver, but who would buy something with the Minster of Magic's monogram all over it?

********************

"Who was that lady?" Emily slid an arm around Harry's waist and spun round him as they jived across the dance floor. He caught her hand and let her spin out until both their arms were straight and then pulled her back, body-to-body. "The one in the white dress." 

"Don't know." He turned her to face him and kissed the tip of her nose. "She said she was here with someone from Ron's" He cringed - lying again Potter! It was becoming par for the course these days and he seemed to be doing it so well.

"I'm beginning to think you have a very shady past, Harry Potter. All these strange people you seem to know. Snape, the woman in white, that trio of red heads by the door."

"What?" Harry stopped so suddenly Emily nearly lost her footing. 

She clung to him, steadying herself. "Over there, by the door. They said you were at school with them." She saw a strange look flash across his face.

"Can you give me five minutes? I haven't seen them for years." 

Harry untangled himself from her and started across the dance floor. The red hair and freckles were unmistakeable. Ron and George and Fred. Did George have long hair, or was that Fred? He didn't know. Didn't care. His pace quickened and he pushed his way through the throng.

And fell into Ron's arms.

The four grabbed at shoulders, slapped backs and hugged as only a three-year absence could cause.

"What are you doing here?" Harry finally managed to say, his voice rising above the noise of the room.

"Would we miss your party?" The twin with the long hair slapped him on the back again.

"Would we miss any party," the one with the stud retorted.

"George?"

"No, George has the hair - I'll just stick with the stud."

"How did you find out about the party? How did you find me?"

"Ron's a seer remember - crystal ball gazing." Fred smirked.

"You should have seen him - 'I see loads of drink'!" George put on a spooky voice.

"I don't believe you are here." Harry had a stupid grin on his face.

The small group continued with back slapping for a moment, then Ron's face suddenly became serious, and he leaned close to Harry's ear. "Harry, we need to talk about what Snape told you."

"What, now?" Ron nodded again and Harry gave a small shrug. "Okay, let's find somewhere quiet."

"There's a room next door. We've checked it out and it's empty." 

Harry nodded, following the Weasleys to the room. Fred opened the door and ushered everyone in.

The small meeting room was empty apart from a few round tables ... and Hermione Granger. They stood ten feet apart, looking at each other, neither knowing what to say or do.

Harry knew he was staring. He could see the changes three years had brought. She seemed taller, curvier than he remembered. Her hair was drawn back from her face in simple curls, several tiny shimmering butterfly clips holding it in place. He realised their wings fluttered as she moved and wondered whether it was magic or not. Her dress was a deep red, and its simple cut accentuated the lines of her body.

Hermione studied him with the same intense scrutiny. He hadn't changed that much. His profile was more defined, more masculine now, but the expression shining out of those green eyes was the same she had been watching since she was 11. The same sad, haunted gaze that had greeted her on the Hogwarts Express their first year. The same wounded child looking for a place to belong, dressed in his ill-fitting cast offs, which made him seem even smaller than he actually had been.

Tonight the clothes fit. His dark trousers were like a second skin and the silk sweater he wore was so fine it seemed to float on his frame. Its pale teal colour made his eyes burn deep sea green. And it was the eyes which made her want to hold him and warn him that he could run and run, but the past would always catch up with him.

Harry crossed the ten-foot gap and grabbed Hermione into his arms. He clung to her as if his very life depended on it, fingers digging into her arms and back for fear she might vanish.

Then he kissed her, hard and with passion as though the last three years had never happened and they were back at Hogwarts again. At first Hermione didn't respond, but she didn't pull away either. Then, slowly, she fell into the emotion and her mouth opened under his, bruising lips together with a shared eagerness.

Ron stared, aghast. The rational part of him said the two hadn't seen each other for years and Harry didn't know about Ron's relationship with his ex-girlfriend. The unreasonable part was seething at the gall of his friend. Did Harry really think he could just pick things up as if the last three years hadn't happened?

Fred folded his arms. "Well, they haven't seen each other in a while, you know."

George nodded. "And it is only a little brotherly kiss after all." 

Ron's face slowly began to redden and he stepped between the two, pushing them apart. "Okay, enough greeting!" They looked at him, bemused expressions mirrored on each face. "Hermione, let me introduce you to an old friend of mine, Harry Potter." The sarcasm was so thick it could have been cut with a knife. "Harry, this is Hermione, MY girlfriend." He caustically finished.

Hermione looked between the two, her face flushed. "I... um."

Harry blinked in confusion, hearing Ron's bitter recriminations echoing slightly around the edge of the emotions still burning within him. "Oh. I'm..." He looked at Ron, then down at the floor. "I didn't mean to." He stepped back, feeling guilty for all sorts of reasons, the list headed by Emily. Tugging his sweater straight, he gave a nervous smile. "Hermione," he nodded at her

George finally broke the silence, which hung in the room. "Hexes and curses anyone?"

"Talk." Ron pointed to a table. 

No one moved. No one looked at anyone else.

Finally Harry held up his hands. "Okay, can we back track and start over. I've just met up with you all again and I don't want it to end like this. Hermione, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you. You just look so nice and..." He gesticulated with his hands then shrugged and turned away, towards Ron. "Ron, I'm sorry. I didn't think and I didn't know."

"Yeah, well," Ron sulked.

"Fred, George. Sorry you had to witness that."

"We don't mind," they echoed together. 

"By the way, like the stud, Fred and the hair, George. Bet it drives the girls wild." The twins grinned and Harry turned back to Ron and Hermione, putting a hand on each person's shoulder. "Thank you for my presents. They took some explaining though." He held out his right arm where the cord bracelet still hung. "Cool magic too. Very impressive."

The three stood very quietly for a moment and the connection linking them together slowly re-ignited.

"Isn't it sweet," Fred tilted his head to one side, watching the trio.

"Do you think they'll stay like that all night? Cos if they are, I've got a date with a raven-haired beauty who tried to seduce me up earlier."

"Better wait a while. Ron's getting his serious 'Percy' look again. Any minute now he'll be dishing out orders."

Ron glared back over his shoulder and gave his brothers a vicious look. "Harry," he turned his attention back to his old friend. "We need to talk." His words broke the trio apart, but the connection between them remained.

"Okay," Harry gestured to the table Ron had early pointed out and they sat down. It might be his imagination, but Harry got the impression he sat alone on one side while the rest grouped opposite. "So, Snape tells me you're some sort of hit squad."

"Something like that." Ron let Hermione speak. He was still upset by what had happened and wasn't sure he could be rational at the moment. The trouble was he couldn't decide why he was so upset. Harry kissing Hermione like that was good cause, but there was something else niggling at him deep down. "Sirius arranged it back after you left."

"Why?"

"Why?" Ron leaned forward. "Because people were trying to kill you, that's why."

"Ron!" Hermione hissed. "Let me deal with this."

"No!" Ron suddenly realised what the niggling was. Harry had just waltzed into the room as if nothing had happened, as if he'd never left and everything was just as it used to be. "You don't know what it's been like, Harry. You went off and we had to pick up the pieces. People like Lucius Malfoy have been destroying everything you tried to protect. Do you know how many people have moved overseas to get away from him and his thought police? Even Hermione's parents are living in France now because she's too scared to let them live here. If it wasn't for Sirius things would be even worse than they are now."

Ron suddenly came to his feet and his chair toppled to the floor behind him. "Do you know what he told me a few weeks ago? That it's almost as bad as when Voldemort was around twenty-five years ago. Actually he said it was worse because at least back then you knew who was on what side. Today we have no idea. People are just so damn scared they will say anything to save their own skins. Make up lies, shop their friends, anything to stay out of Malfoy's prisons and away from his version of Aurors." He strode round the table and stood over Harry. "And you ask why we've been protecting you." He leaned towards Harry, inches apart. "People like Malfoy want you dead, that's why!" 

Harry looked deep into Ron's blue eyes. "Oh. I've never heard you say Voldemort's name before."

Ron turned away, looking skyward. "For fuck's sake, Harry. Have you listened to ANYTHING I have just said?"

"Well, you haven't."

"Harry." Hermione tried to break into what was turning into a very personal battle. She had never seen Ron so angry, hardly every heard him swear. And Harry most definitely wasn't helping. "We..."

"I didn't ask you to look after me."

"What?"

"I never expected you to do that."

"You ungrateful git."

Now Harry was on his feet. "Me? Ungrateful. Haven't I done my share? How many times have I gone up against Voldemort in the past? Didn't I stop him this time? I don't need this." He turned away, and then spun back, "And don't go throwing things about like a spoilt brat just because I kissed your girl friend. I said I didn't know. I apologised. What do you want me to do, get on my knees and beg?" Green eyes blazing, he turned towards the door. "I don't need your help. I'll sort this out on my own, just like I've always done."

********************

"You left the grounds without my permission."

Draco spun, stumbling down a step at the unexpected voice, which he heard not only through his ears, but also inside his head. Lucius was there, beside him, the setting sun turning his white hair blood red. "I..." Draco steadied himself against the stonework. This man looked like Voldemort now, any trace of his father was lost in the twilight. "I needed to go to Diagon Alley."

"You will not leave the grounds without my consent. In fact I have arranged it so you won't be able to leave. There are now blocking spells around the grounds that will prevent you. I suggest you do not try." The man's eyes bore into his son's. "Do you understand?"

Draco nodded. The man's presence was so overpowering it was difficult to do anything but comply.

"I will not allow you to ruin my plans, Draco. If you follow my instructions to the letter, I will allow you to live through this. If you disobey me - if you try to leave - I will hunt you down and your miserable life will be worth nothing." Draco's eyes widened with fear, his mouth dry. "Now you must be punished for your disobedience."

Lucius held up his hand, palm outwards and pointed it at Draco's chest. "_Crucio Fractumus Spina_."

********************

Bristling with an anger he didn't understand, Harry strode towards the door. Halfway across the room he felt the floor disappear beneath him and he fall into darkness.

********************

As the curse hit, Draco fell backwards, plummeting down the stone steps. Breath knocked out of him, he lay in a crumpled heap for a moment, wondering why he felt no pain from the curse. _Cruciatus_ was supposed to hurt, but he just felt winded from the fall. Then he tried to sit up and realised what the other words Lucius had spoken meant.

Every bone in his body had been smashed. The damaged pieces scraped together, leaving sharp daggers of tortured pain in their wake. He sucked in a lungful of air, but as his chest expanded the shattered ribs ripped into his lungs and he tasted blood in his mouth, choking him. _Don't breath_, his mind told him, _Don't move_.

A blossom of agony ripped through his leg and he realised his smashed femur had broken through muscle and skin.

He tried to scream, but the action shattered his jaw.

********************

Hermione saw Harry's legs give way. He plummeted to the floor like a stone. She let out a cry and sprinted towards him, dropping down at his feet. "Don't touch him," she hissed, waving the others away. "Dark magic again."

"Make sure no one comes in." Ron gestured to his brothers and George quickly locked the door. Ron joined Hermione on the floor and he ran a hand a couple of inches above the fallen body. "I can feel it, but I don't understand the curse. It's been twisted, changed from the original into something else."

********************

Harry didn't know how long he fell for, but when he finally collided with the ground it was with a spine-jarring crunch. Sparks of fire flashed through his bones and he thought he would never move again.

A glimmer of a thought developed deep in his mind and he knew he had to get to safety.

********************

From somewhere deep inside, Draco tried to control the torment, but it was almost impossible. The pain overwhelmed him and his mind cried out for darkness, to pass out into oblivion, but Voldemort blocked any possibility of that. Despite the white-hot shards of pain it inflicted, he held out a hand, pleading for mercy.

After an eternity, a hard voice grated through his skull. It whispered "_Finite Incantatum_." and then laughed.

********************

Harry looked around for the boy, but the cloud was empty. He wanted to call out to him, but he didn't know the boy's name or how to find him.

He picked up the toy lion club and looked over the cloud's edge to the building below. This time the roof was in place and it took him a moment to locate the boy. He was sat on the wall surrounding a fountain, and he was crying.

Harry called to the boy. He needed to be up on the cloud where he would be safe. But the boy was too upset to hear him. His pain was too much. Then he heard a voice. It was calling to him, pulling him up and away from the cloud. 

Up towards the light.

********************

Harry opened his eyes, blinking in the bright light, and looked at the concerned faces staring down at him. "What happened?" he finally managed to ask, trying to sit up.

"You collapsed." Fred sat down at Harry's side and reached an arm around the younger man's shoulders as he tried to rise. Harry didn't get far and he leaded back against Fred for support.

"It was the curse, the one Snape told you about." Ron's hand hovered above his fallen friend, using it to discern whether the dark magic had dissipated or not. "It's gone now, but you've been unconscious for a good 15 minutes."

"Doesn't feel like it's gone," Harry hissed with pain. The lingering ache in his bones felt like each had been snapped and then put back together again. "Wow." He ran a shaky hand across his brow and held his aching head.

Hermione remained quietly by Harry's feet, her wand in her hand as she tried several charms to ease the pain. Nothing was very successful and she swore at her own inaction.

Harry watched her through watering eyes, seeing her full lips still red from their kiss, and a raised mark on her bare shoulder where he had held her so tightly. He wanted to sit up on his own, without using Fred for support, but he couldn't. He couldn't remember ever feeling so weak and helpless. In the back of his mind the image of the crying boy burned and he remembered Snape telling him that what he felt was only an echo of the pain experienced by the trigger. He had to find out who the boy was; needed to know who the caster was using to hurt them both. 

And he knew Snape was right - he couldn't deal with this on his own.

"Ron," Despite the pain it caused him, Harry reached for his friend's hand, holding it tightly. "Please forgive me. I don't know what's been going on and I apologise for sounding off like that. I do need help and I can't do this on my own." He looked at the four people sat on the floor around him and realised he had trusted them all once before and needed to do the same again. "I need help from all of you. I have to find out who the trigger is. Someone is torturing him to get at me and I have to find out why. Please will you help me before both of us die?"

********************

By the time Draco felt able to move, it was dark and had been for hours. Lucius had gone almost as soon as he ended the curse, but Draco couldn't help but feel the man was still watching him from somewhere within the darkened building.

Uncurling himself from the foetal position he'd ended up in, Draco hissed at the pain left in the wake of the curse. He felt like he had fallen from his broomstick in a very big way. All of his muscles seemed to have locked up and he had to carefully stretch the pain out of each one before moving. Finally, he managed to sit, despite the wave of nausea accompanying the action. He wiped a hand across his mouth and found blood on it; blood from punctured lungs. He touched his mouth again and realised he had bitten through his lip and the side of his mouth. That was where the blood came from, not from his lungs.

And then he realised it had all been in his mind. The after-effects, the pain and blood where there, but the whole incident had been played out in his imagination like some macabre nightmare. It made sense really. How could Voldemort continue to inflict such torment physically? He would end up with a broken dead body long before he had finished with his torture. In fact, Draco knew he would not have survived had this been for real.

A sudden cold realisation hit him and he thought he might pass out again. If this really did only affect the unconscious, Voldemort could continue his torture for years until he finally drove Draco mad.

Draco knew he had no option but to get away from Voldemort and from the estate. When Voldemort decided to curse him again, he wasn't sure how he would cope. And he knew it was 'when' not 'if'. All he needed to do was get through the Dark Lord's blocks around the estate. All! Such a small word for such a big task. But he couldn't do anything about it at the moment. It was taking all his strength to just exist at the moment and with pain radiating through his body. 

Very slowly, Draco used the stone steps to help him to his feet and like an old man he dragged himself up the stairs, each like climbing a mountain.

It took him a while to find an unlocked door into the castle. The pain in his leg, where the phantom bone had broken through, shot from foot to hip with each step, forcing him to limp. Most of the lights in the deserted corridors had been extinguished for the night and Draco walked through them in near darkness. Except the corridors were not deserted. Occasionally he would feel he was being watched and see people in the portraits scrutinizing him, hissing out comments as he limped by.

The 'living' portraits had never bothered him before, but now they sent a shiver down his spine as each become part of Voldemort's army of spies - watching, reporting back, betraying.

He paused outside what had been his father's study. No light spilled under the door and he hoped it would be empty. Draco pushed the door open, closing it behind him. He was in darkness.

He fumbled for his wand and pointed it in the general direction of the desk. "_Lumos._" The desk lamp flared into life and he tiredly crossed the room. Beside the desk, he rested a hand on the imposing leather chair, but couldn't quite bring himself to sit in it. An image of his father sitting there sprang to mind. Always his father in that chair and Draco stood on the other side of the desk. Lucius talking in that very quiet voice he used to chastise - never raised above a whisper - a voice you had to listen to very hard and which chilled the blood.

Draco let go and crouched down to a cupboard in the desk pedestal, wincing as pain flashed down from his hip. He took out a small bottle and glass and kicked the door gently closed. Then, sitting on a smaller, hard-backed chair, he poured a generous measure of clear liquid into the glass. He swallowed the Goblin Vodka in one gulp, feeling it burn a tract of fire down his throat and into his stomach. 

That was good! Almost immediately, he felt the familiar sensation of its warmth washing through his body. He closed his eyes and let out a heart-felt sigh. The Vodka took the edge off the pain left by Voldemort's vindictive attack. The man was a psychopath, he decided. He opened his eyes and reached for the bottle.

His hand never touched it. Instead it exploded, sending shards of glass around him. Without thinking Draco's arms shot up to protect his face, his heavy robes offering protection, but he still felt several splinters strike his hands and face. He hissed in pain and tried to pull one splinter from the back of his hand.

"Leave it."

Draco froze like a deer caught in headlights at the voice. That quiet whisper. He didn't move, didn't look round, just kept his eyes focused on the desk lamp, conscious of the blood on his face.

"You took your time." The voice was closer and Draco could sense the man stood a few feet behind him. "Have you nothing to say for yourself?"

Draco tried to swallow, but his throat wouldn't work. He struggled for seconds to speak and then said simply. "Why?" Lucius didn't respond. "Why are you doing this to me?"

The soft chuckle made Draco shudder and he tried to concentrate on the light before him, using it as a focal point.

"You have the nerve to ask me why I choose to do something?"

"I don't question."

"I do it because it pleases me. Because I want to. Does that suit your inquisitiveness?" Draco's back stiffened imperceptivity. "I am doing it because through you I can make Harry Potter suffer."

"Potter?"

"Yes." The voice was suddenly beside him and Draco could feel it like a huge weight bearing down on him. He wanted to pull away, but knew he dare not move. "You felt my Power didn't you? Saw him suffering in the scrying bowl. You and he are linked now remember. When I curse you he feels it. He suffers too. You were chosen, Draco, to carry out this great service to me. You should be honoured to serve me so. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, Draco and I am giving you the chance to repay all the insults and degradations Potter forced on you at Hogwarts."

Draco was grateful Lucius was behind him. He didn't want the man to see the fear on his face, the abject horror at what he had just been told. He could feel his hands shaking and then realised his whole body was trembling. He finally found a voice. "You are torturing me so that Potter experiences the same thing?"

"Of course." A hand lightly touched Draco's shoulder, the fingertips brushing the scar by his throat. "Surely you don't think I would hurt you just for my own pleasure." Voldemort felt the boy's trembling body and smiled. "I have told you. Do as I say and I will let you stand with me as my heir and successor. You have it within you to be great, but only on my terms."

Draco realised Lucius was bending towards him, his mouth close to his ear, his breath stirring the fine hair. "You are mine, Draco. Your father promised you to me when you were borne and I will collect." The voice was so low he felt rather than heard it. "You will submit willingly."

"And if I don't?" His voice was a squeak, like it had just broken. 

"There are more things in your mind I can use. Fears you don't even realise you have." Lucius' hair brushed against Draco's face, cold like icicles. "I am your Master and your Lord. Cross me if you dare. I won't kill you, but I will do things to you which will make you beg for death."

A slender finger ran along the boy's cut cheek, drawing the blood into a line. It stopped on his lips and Draco tasted his own blood. 

--------------------

**Next chapter: **What does Hermione really think about Ron and Harry. Can Harry find a way to help Draco?

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Any reviews, are more than welcome, either on-line or at the above email. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!


	6. Cloud walking

COA4.html 

**Title: Coming of Age: Chapter 6 - Cloud walking (6/?)**

**Author name:** Frances Potter

**Author email:** frances@forever.u-net.com

**Category:** Just about everything: Angst/Darkfic, Mystery, a little Action/Adventure, some Romance.

**Keywords:** Harry, Hermione, Ron, Sirius, Draco, Lucius, and Voldemort.

**Spoilers:** All books

**Rating:** PG-13 (UK rating 12). (Non-explicit adult themes, some bad language, mental distress/violence)

**Summary: **After finally defeating Voldemort, 18-year-old Harry Potter leaves the Wizarding world for good. Three years later, on his 21st birthday, Draco Malfoy finds out the Dark Lord isn't dead and he has plans not only for Draco but for Harry as well.

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author's Note: **Thanks to my wonderful Beta readers, Josie, Antares Altair, Emily and Thursday. And thanks to my new 'assistant' Circe/Ashleigh who is partly responsible for some of the darker plot bunnies hopping about in later chapters!

I have been asked if this is a Draco story. It is not. It has always been about Harry and his return to the Wizarding world. Draco has a habit of creeping in and taking over, but he isn't the hero and redemption isn't a forgone conclusion. 

**The Story so far...** At the end of his 7th year at Hogwarts, Harry thinks he has destroyed Voldemort for good. He decides to leave the Wizarding world and is living as a Muggle with girlfriend Emily. But Voldemort isn't that easy to destroy. The Dark Lord has taken over Lucius Malfoy's body and has plans to rid himself of Harry for good using Draco. On their 21st birthdays (which coincidentally and conveniently fall on the same day, 31st July), Voldemort links Draco and Harry with a mirroring spell, meaning Harry will feel any curse Voldemort puts on Draco. Meanwhile, Harry has met up with his old friends from Hogwarts who, unknown to Harry, have been protecting him from Voldemort's followers during the years he had been with the Muggles. At his 21st birthday party, Harry and Ron don't see eye to eye and Harry finds out his owl Hedwig is an Animagus. The countdown is on for a Halloween none of them will forget. Oh, and Hermione (who was Harry's girlfriend before he ran away) is living with Ron! The story continues the morning after the party.

********

Coming of Age Chapter Five - _Cloud walking_ **_Sunday 19th August 2001. _** **_The following morning..._**

Ron sat on the wide window seat leaning against the casement recess, his legs stretched out along the upholstered cushion and his eyes closed. Beside him the window was open and a soft breeze floated the scent of roses into the first-floor bedroom. The sound of cat talk came from the garden, and he opened his eyes. The thin sliver of the moon cast just enough light in the garden for him to see Crookshanks and Kovack, the black and white cat from next door, sitting on the table talking to each other. Crookshanks had a strict hierarchy of who was allowed in his garden and Kovack, with his dinner jacket markings and white socks, was the only other cat allowed free reign of that territory. He even joined Crookshanks in terrorising the rest of the neighbourhood cats.

Ron sighed, still trying to make sense of his outburst at Harry's party. Fortunately, they had parted on good terms, but he still felt annoyed that Harry could bring out such indignation in him. This had surprised him, because it was the one emotion he hadn't expected when meeting his old friend again. 

"Can't you sleep?"

Ron looked towards the voice. He could just make out the figure on the bed. "I'm just wallowing in self pity. Can you believe how stupid I was?"

Hermione slipped from under the sheets, found her dressing down and crossed to the window. She pushed his feet over and sat down opposite him, her own legs parallel to Ron's along the seat. "I was quite impressed actually. Ron Weasley ranting at the great Harry Potter," she smiled at him. "It'll be written up in all the history texts."

"It's not funny. We were lucky he collapsed, or he would have left and that would have been it." He stroked her foot, absently massaging it. "I know I'm supposed to be a hot tempered red head, but do I always get so carried away? Shouting like that?"

"You had your reasons. Actually, I think it worked quite well. You sort of shocked him into realising just how serious this whole thing is. If we'd just talked politely about it, we wouldn't have gotten anywhere."

"Do you know what really pissed me off?"

Hermione wanted to ask 'apart from Harry kissing me?', but somehow didn't think it would be a good idea. She still wasn't sure what she thought about the kiss herself. Harry tasted, well, just delicious, and it still made her legs tremble when she thought about it.

Ron charged on, not waiting for her response. "It was the way he sat there like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't run out on us. He said sorry for kissing you, but nothing about leaving. He's spent three years messing around with that camera of his, while we've struggled to keep a lid on things."

"He didn't know, Ron. He assumed Voldemort's death would be an end to things."

"Well, he should have realised. And what about that dig?" Ron waved an absent hand. "He's never heard me say 'Voldemort' before." 

"It's true."

"It's not."

"It is. You still called him 'You Know Who' up to about a year ago."

"Oh." He looked thoughtful. "I guess so."

"Are you worried Harry's going to come back into our lives and change the status quo? That he'll want to run things?"

Ron shrugged. "Did you see the way Fred and George looked at him? Like the return of the Chosen One! If he'd told them to jump, they would have asked 'how high?'."

"Now who's being ridiculous?"

"Not!" He reacted like a petulant child.

"Are!" Hermione retorted in kind. "Ron, you didn't answer. Would you let him run things?"

"Sure. He'd look at me with those rotten green eyes and I'd be saying 'how high?' too. And that's what I hate about myself. I'd let him stroll back in and take over. Do you know what I thought the moment I saw him again? It was 'Great. I can go and get on with my life again now'. Harry can take over."

"Oh, Ron." She moved forward, kissing him.

"I'm fed up being a hero." Ron's arms pulled her to his chest. 

"That's not going to change, you know. Harry is clearly very happy with his life. He's going to want to sort this curse thing out, but we don't know if he's going to return to the fold afterwards."

He looked thoughtful, clearly debating the fact. "I guess. I just assumed he'd come back and everything would be the same as before." 

"And despite what you've just said about wanting to get on with your life, you don't actually want that do you?"

"No." Ron's fingers curled in her hair. "I've spent my whole life playing second fiddle to everybody and finally I'm being taken seriously and doing a hell of a job at it. I have done a good job haven't I?"

She nodded. "I think you're wonderful."

"Angel." He kissed Hermione again and picked her up. "Everything's on hold now anyway. Harry's gone on holiday! Can you believe it - we tell him he's got a deadly curse and he goes off to the Italian Lakes." He carried her back to the bed and lay on his side beside her, propped on one elbow.

"Actually, it's probably not such a bad thing. You know, out of sight, out of mind. The further he's away from the trigger the weaker the effect of the curse should be." She touched his face. "And it will give everyone the chance to get used to the idea of him being back."

"Hermione," Ron took the hand from his face and kissed her palm, "do you still love him?"

"What?" 

"Harry. Do you still love him?"

She mirrored his pose and thought for a moment. "Harry? Of course I do. I'll love him for as long as I live, you know that." Ron's jaw tightened. "You've always known that. You feel exactly the same." 

"Yes." He reached a finger to her cheek and traced the contour of her face. "Are you...?"

Hermione caught his hand. "Ron, what is going on here?"

"Do you want to go back to him?"

"Ron!"

"I'd understand. When you two met ... the way you and he ... kissed. I would understand if you wanted to end our..." His voice squeaked.

"What are you saying? You don't think..." She pushed him down onto his back and would have banged his head hard if she could. "Oh, Ron. We were all shocked by what happened and I was as surprised as Harry about the kiss." She had been surprised and still was - pleasantly so as it happened. "Yes, I do love him. He's was ... is ... one of my best friends and I don't ever want to loose him again."

"Oh."

She kissed him briefly. "But you. I love you in ways I can't explain. You know that don't you? You can sense that."

"Yes, but..." Hermione kissed him again, hard and deep and he responded, mouth open against her. His grip tightened around the woman, holding her closely to the length of his body and one of his legs slipped round her thigh, pulling her even closer. When she finally released him, he took a very deep breath. "Okay, I get the picture."

"Do you? Do you really?"

"I thought you might go ... leave me."

"Never. Is that what this is all really about?" He nodded. "Ron, I'm here for the duration."

Hermione relaxed into his arms and held him tightly. Yes, Ron, she thought to herself, I love you more than life itself. But Harry? She felt a breath catch in her throat. That transcends and goes somewhere else. She was glad it was dark because she was sure her face was blushing red as she remembered what making love to Harry had been like.

Making love to Ron felt like she was the universe and he was the only other thing in that universe. He was - and always would be - the most perfect expression of love she could find. Her sun, moon and stars. When she was with Ron she didn't need anyone else. 

Harry, on the other hand, was like a cloud drifting about on the breeze. A cloud she could never quite get a location on and never knew when or if it would lead to rain. And she never knew what sort of cloud he would be. Sometimes he'd be a big thundercloud and she would feel like she was in the middle of a storm with him sparking such strong emotions from her. Other times a little April shower cloud, refreshing and light. And high scatter clouds ... or...

But that was three years ago and Harry had Emily now.

She shivered.

But that kiss. Oh, that kiss.

********************

**_Monday 10th September 2001_**

Harry stood on the small balcony overlooking Winchester High Street. From the attic window his view encompassed everything from the Cathedral, to the Water Meadows and the huge Guildhall. It was a view to die for and the rent for the offices matched the location. But like the lighthouse, it had been love at first sight and he just had to have it. 

The narrow building, which stretched way back from the street, had a state-of-the-art photographic studio, his lovely dark room and several Apple Macintosh G4 computers on which he and his graphics designer Ian produced animation and websites. He'd also converted the basement into a flat, a getaway during a busy day or somewhere to rest when pulling all-nighters.

The building was empty at the moment. Ian had been sent home (the man had been working all weekend) and Jill; his indispensable assistant was having a day off. He didn't want either of them around when Ron Weasley arrived.

It had been nearly three weeks since their meeting at Harry's party and the ensuing row, and Harry hoped the break would make things easier. Ron had wanted to meet immediately, but Harry told him in no uncertain terms that Emily was taking him away on holiday and he wasn't going to cancel. Ron had spluttered his indignation. He did not approve of Harry being so far from help.

So Harry had gone to Italy and had the most miserable time possible. It rained. When it wasn't raining it was plain cloudy. And there had been another of the curse attacks. The pain from it had been really bad, despite the distance, and the aftereffects seemed to last for days. Emily decided he had flu and Harry wondered whether 'flu' was on the list of curses the caster planned. Fortunately Emily also decided she wanted to play nurse, which wasn't such a bad thing, he reminded himself. He smiled at the memory. 

The front door buzzer sounded over the monitor and Harry climbed down the three floors to the reception. He turned the deadbolt lock and opened the door. "You found it all right then." He waved Ron in. 

"Hope you don't mind. I've brought someone with me." A second figure appeared in the doorway.

Harry's eyes opened wide at the sight of Sirius Black, his godfather and best friend of both his parents. The last time he had seen Sirius, Harry had been preparing to take on Voldemort in that final battle which had lost Dumbledore to them. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat as emotion surged through him. "Sirius. I..." 

The solemn expression on the older man's face suddenly broke into a huge grin and he gathered Harry in a big bear hug, carrying him into the building. Once inside, he put him down and held him at arm's length, studying the young man's shocked face. "Are you all right?" He placed his hands on either side of Harry's face and looked deep into the green eyes which reminded him so much of Harry's mother, Lily. Then he hugged him again. "We've all been so worried about you."

Harry stood in the embrace and closed his eyes, fighting against the tears that threatened to run down his face. He hadn't expected this. Hadn't expected to have to deal with a reunion with the person who had been the closest thing to a parent he had ever known. And he didn't know what to say or do. 

Warm hands gently stroked his back and Sirius spoke again. "Why didn't you come and talk to me, Harry? We could have sorted things out, you know. It would have been okay."

Harry pulled away, knowing Sirius' comment referred to him leaving Hogwarts. He knew he couldn't talk about it, not now, not on top of the emotion bombshell of meeting Sirius again. Instead, he tugged at his shirt and ushered his visitors towards the narrow staircase leading to the basement flat. "Come on down stairs," he said croakily.

The one room, with its kitchen, seating area and big bed, was flooded with sunlight from the huge French windows leading to a small courtyard garden. They were open and the sound of traffic was just audible. Laughter from an adjoining garden was accompanied by the smell of barbeque cooking.

Ron wandered out into the courtyard, leaving the two for a few moments. He took out his wand and quietly began checking for any problems.

Sirius watched Harry spoon coffee into the filter. He was surprised at how slight his godson was. In his memory Harry had been taller, more like James, but he was several inches shorter, and although muscular, he still looked like a strong gust of wind might blow him over. Was this really the boy who'd bested Voldemort on so many occasions?

Harry was acutely aware of Sirius watching him and he used making the coffee as an excuse to regain his composure. Finally he turned to face him, his gaze shifting up to reach the other's eyes. "I would have gone even if we'd spoken. I couldn't stay. Not then anyway." 

"I know." Sirius rested a paternal hand on Harry's shoulder. "It must have been hard for you. When you want to talk, just remember this time you do have people who care for you. I'm here, always remember that."

"Thanks." Harry turned and picked up the coffee pot. "Ron, coffee?"

Ron slipped his wand away and strolled to join the two men. He sat at one end of the settee while Harry sat at the other. Sirius sprawled on the matching settee opposite. Between was a ceramic inlaid coffee table on which Harry had placed the mugs and coffee pot.

"How was the holiday?" Ron finally asked.

"Don't ask. It was a disaster. How are things here?"

"Well," Ron fidgeted a little. "Not great. We're no closer to finding out why this is happening. Hermione has come up with some more protection charms. She wanted to come today, but she has a tutor session." He saw Harry's questioning expression. "She started training as a Medi-Witch after Hogwarts, but got thrown out 18 months ago."

"Thrown out?"

"Yeah, it's all political. Anyway, she carried on studying with the people who got thrown out at the same time. Ginny was at Medi-College too. She didn't get thrown out, but left in protest." Ginny was Ron's only sister.

"That's terrible."

"They are both doing really well now, but neither will be able to legally practice unless the laws get changed." Ron looked over at Sirius. "Maybe it would be a good idea if you told Harry about the way things are, Sirius."

"Yeah." Harry reached for his mug. "Deputy Minister Black should be able to do that."

Sirius sat up. "It's more an honorary title, as far as Lucius Malfoy is concerned. But I do have a nasty habit of turning up at council meetings and shouting a lot. It's all a bit of a mess really, Harry. You remember how the war developed after Cedric Diggery died and Voldemort came back. His old followers came out of the woodwork and they started their persecutions again. Fortunately Dumbledore had made a lot of connections with other groups who were fighting against the Death Eaters. That didn't stop Malfoy getting Hogwarts closed down. But we actually won through. You destroyed Voldemort."

Harry's jaw tightened. "I remember."

"And at least there were no recriminations this time, like there'd been before, after your parents died. I think everybody was just grateful for the end of it all. Then in October 1998, Malfoy managed to get himself voted onto the Council, with special responsibility for reviewing what had happened during the conflict - they refused to call it a war. His role was to find out whether Voldemort had actually returned."

"He did, I was there. And Malfoy's a Death Eater. I saw him at the graveyard." Harry's fingers were messing in his hair.

"We know. But Malfoy managed to prove it was all a set up. The Dark Lord had not risen again and Albus Dumbledore had been responsible for all the troubles. Malfoy said Albus came up with the story about Voldemort's return to set people against each other and that Albus wanted to take over everything. Malfoy said that Muggle-born wizards and witches were in on the plot which would target pureblood families."

"You are kidding."

"I wish I were. The Minister of Magic unexpectedly 'retired' in the December and Malfoy was asked to take on the role. You should have seen the show he put on, Harry. At first he refused, saying he wasn't worthy. They begged him and the more he refused the more they begged. In the end he 'reluctantly' accepted, telling people his first action would be to try and heal the rift between pureblood and Muggle-born. Instead, he stopped Muggle-born wizards and witches from holding positions in any government organisation or institution." 

"That's why Hermione got thrown out of Medi-College," Ron added. "Malfoy has set up a new Auror force made up of people we knew are Death Eaters. Their job is to track down people Malfoy claims were involved in the plot."

"My position at the Ministry means I've been able to get our own people into Malfoy's inner sanctum, so we have an idea of what he's planning. Sometimes I get word of people they are targeting. We spirit them out of the country if possible. George and Fred usually organise that part. Fortunately most of the foreign Wizarding communities don't believe what Malfoy's been teaching, but there are growing pockets of people abroad who are coming round to his way of thinking. Give it a few more years and who knows where we will be. Malfoy's Aurors have Carte blanch to use any methods they want to get information from people. Basically any person Malfoy takes a dislike to can find themselves hauled away. He uses threats on people to make them lie about others. He's already removed most of the people who were against him from the Council."

"What about you?"

Sirius smiled darkly. "He won't try anything on me, I can assure you of that. Some people still think I'm a mass murderer and that I secretly support Voldemort."

"And Hermione?"

"They took her in for questioning. She still won't talk about what happened. I told Malfoy if he didn't release her I would personally find something very painful to do with my wand. Don't know if that had any effect, but they released her without charge."

"It's like I said to you before, Harry." Ron leaned towards his friend. "No one knows who's going to be picked up next and everyone, even families like mine who can trace their lineage back generations, aren't safe. If Malfoy found out what we've been doing, what Fred and George use their shops as cover for, we wouldn't stand a chance. And now he's started on you. I dread to think what he's going to come up with next."

"You said Hermione's parents moved."

Ron nodded. "They wanted her to go with them, but she wouldn't. Not while you..."

"Not while I needed looking after. I've got a lot to answer for, haven't I?" They both looked at him, but said nothing. "I will make up for this."

"It's Malfoy we need to sort out." Sirius leaned forward and took a piece of paper from his pocket. "Severus gave this to me." He unfolded it and Harry saw it was his photograph of Isabel."

"Are you talking to him these days?"

"Reluctantly. Dumbledore made us promise to be civil to each other and on occasions we have been known to work well together. Severus recognised the other woman." He tapped the overlaid image. "Do you remember seeing her at the Quidditch World Cup Final? Ron recognised her as well."

Harry frowned and took the paper. Then it finally dawned. "It's Narcissa Malfoy. Of course! It all makes sense now." He reached down to a shelf under the coffee table and took out several sheets of paper. "I went up to Diagon Alley yesterday."

Sirius nearly dropped his mug. Coffee splashed over the side into his lap. "You did what?" He scrubbed at the wet patches with his hand. "What on earth possessed you to do such a stupid thing? What if someone had recognised you? Why did you think Ron arranged to come down here? Anything could have happened."

Harry waited for him to finish ranting. "I just needed to check I could get in there. I still have the robes I left Hogwarts in, so I wore them with the hood up. I was careful."

Ron said nothing. He just sat with his head in his hands.

"Malfoy was there signing something or giving a talk. Don't know what. He was there with Narcissa and Draco and I took some photographs of them." He spread the prints out on the coffee table. The others picked them up, studying each in turn. "When I took these, I saw the star-burst effect through the view finder, the same as when I took the original one."

Ron picked up the one of Lucius. There was nothing as distinct as the overlaid images of Narcissa and Isabel, but there was clearly the ghosting of another figure behind him. The photo of Narcissa showed only her, there was no sign of Isabel.

He took the print of Draco from Sirius and turned it towards the light. There was no other image, but it looked as if Draco was behind a dark shadow, while the rest of the print was in perfect sunlight. "Well, if it isn't the Prince of Darkness himself. Look at him, surrounded by evil." He threw the print down. "Whatever you are seeing, Harry, he deserves it after what he let happen to Dad and Bill."

"I know, but look at the one of all three of them." There was no overlay on this one, just the three Malfoys. Lucius smiling at his public, Narcissa smiling at Lucius. And Draco.

Draco looked terrified out of his mind. His grey eyes were washed to almost no colour at all and he looked like he was staring into the very depths of hell. For the briefest moment Ron almost felt sorry for him, but it quickly passed.

"You still shouldn't have gone. Not on your own. We think Malfoy is probably responsible and because he can't get to you directly, he's using this curse. Narcissa gave you the potion that controls it." Ron dropped the print onto the table. "Harry, we're no closer to finding out who he's using as the trigger."

"We've got to find out." Harry quickly told them of the attack during the holiday. "I thought I was drowning." He shuddered, the incident still fresh in his mind. "There must be a way, each time this has happened I have that contact with him. If he really is a 10-year-old then I don't know how he's managing to cope."

"Harry, there is something I'd like to try. In my seer work, we do a connection technique that can link us to the person we want to do a reading for. You've clearly got a connection with the trigger. This cloud you go to has to be somewhere important to him. We might be able to link you with him by sending you there. That way, it won't matter that the curse isn't actually being used."

"Okay."

"Really?"

"I'm willing to try almost anything,"

"We need somewhere quiet, where we won't be disturbed. It's too noisy here, even with the windows closed."

Harry nodded. "The studio should be okay." He rubbed his hands together nervously. "Ron, about Hermione..."

"Don't. It's okay."

"No. I'm worried about her after what you've just told me. She shouldn't be doing this protection thing if it's so dangerous. She should be with her parents."

Ron grinned his lopsided smile. "And you're going to tell her this? Harry, she hasn't changed. She's still the same pig-headed individual you remember and if she wants to be here then there is nothing you, I or anyone can say which will change her mind."

Harry shrugged, resigned to the truth of Ron's statement. "And Emily. She doesn't know anything about this or me being a wizard. If Malfoy goes after her to get to me, she's totally unprotected."

"The house is protected. Fred, George and Neville went there while you were away." Ron wondered for a moment whether Harry would be angry, but there was only relief on his face. "They've put up ward spells all around the grounds and building. We sorted out your car back on your birthday. When Emily's off the grounds though, there's not a lot we can do, short of giving her a guard."

"I think I'm going to have to tell her. She's got a right to know."

Ron wanted to tell him 'no', but decided they could discuss Emily later. "Shall we get on with this link?"

Harry took them up to the first floor, which had been stripped out to make one large room. The windows had been blacked out and the walls were lined with drapes used as backdrops. With the door closed, it was almost soundproof. Harry turned on one of the overhead spots. It produced a single circle of light in the centre of the room, casting deep shadows in the corners. "What sort of lighting do you want?"

Ron looked at the circle. "It's a bit bright." He watched Harry adjust the dimmer switch and raised a hand when he was happy. "That's good." He strode into the circle and stood in the middle, turning slowly clockwise.

Harry watched Ron for a moment and realised he was holding a crystal which he seemed to be using to get a direction. Ron carried on for several minutes adjusting and refining something only his inner senses could detect, and finally satisfied, he put the crystal on the floor at his feet and gestured for Harry to sit down. Ron joined him, directly opposite so that the thin doubled ended crystal pointed between them.

"Sirius, I need you to sit there." Ron pointed to the 3 o'clock position. "You're the anchor remember. You know when to bring Harry back." Sirius nodded and quietly sat. Harry saw he had changed into his robes. "Harry, have you got your wand?"

Harry nodded and called it out of the air, trying to make it look like he'd retrieved it from a pocket or something. He wasn't sure he wanted them to know about the way the wand was able to follow him. 

Sirius, however, had seen and a knowing smile flickered across his face. Dumbledore had been right; Harry did have the Gift after all. He didn't need to use a wand for magic. Actually, Sirius reminded himself, all wizards and witches could do magic without wands to varying degrees, but for most people it turned into a very inexact science with more failures than successes. It also became very draining when not using a wand to focus the energy. But Harry didn't have that problem. He would be able to focus the energy with a thought and direct it with a flick of the wrist.

He also realised Harry had a very special wand. He remembered being surprised when Ron had shown him Harry's wand several months after his godson had left. Wands normally last forever, only destroyed by being broken. But Harry's wand had looked like it had died. But now it appeared perfect, as though it were brand new. Sirius had heard about wands that became so tuned to their owners they seemed to have the ability to almost 'think' for themselves. But he had only ever seen one before. It had belonged to Harry's mother. Lily had asked Dumbledore about the wand, and the professor had explained that they were known as 'Intuitive wands' and were very rare. Sirius was sure it was her wand that had helped save Harry's life 20 years before. That it had somehow deflected Voldemort's curse back at the wizard. Of course, there was no way he could prove it. Lily's wand had never been found. He would have to ask Harry about his own wand later.

Sirius watched the two boys place their wands on the floor, Ron making sure everything was correctly aligned. What if this didn't work? What if they couldn't find out the identity of the trigger? He had already decided to confront Malfoy anyway, but he needed proof of what the man had done. He took out his own wand, wishing he still had his first one, but that had been snapped when they took him to Azkaban.

"Are you using a spell?" Harry asked.

"No. This is all down to you and your powers of concentration. I want you to hold you hand over the crystal and concentrate on what being on the cloud feels like. You need to let go of any conscious physical thought. Go with the feeling and the emotion of being there. Then I want you to draw the cloud."

"Where?"

"Just in the air, in front of you. Use your hand."

"This is silly."

"Harry."

Green eyes stared back at Ron. "I was never good at this sort of thing."

"You can meditate, you can do this. Give me your glasses." Ron held out his hand and stared hard at his friend. "Now!"

Harry took them off, blinking as his vision blurred slightly. He looked at Ron and thought he saw a halo of light around him, but it disappeared almost immediately. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, listening to Ron's voice, which was becoming almost hypnotic as he spoke quietly.

Ron watched Harry closely and saw the rhythm of his breathing change. It was almost indiscernible, but Ron perceived the change and he knew Harry had moved into the altered state needed to make the link. "See the cloud, Harry. Now draw it in front of you." 

Harry's right hand rose over the crystal and he slowly traced out the shape. As he did, it appeared in the air before him, drawn in lines of gold. The line sent shimmering particles to the floor, coated the crystal, wands and people with a dusting of gold.

"Remember what it feels like to be there, Harry. Picture it in your mind and step into the picture."

Harry's hand dropped over his wand, gold dust dripping from his fingers. As he did so, a burst of light came up from the wand, wrapping him in silver and Harry slid to the ground. Sirius leapt towards him.

"No!" Ron's voice stopped Sirius in his tracks. "He's okay. If you touch him, it will call him back."

"But..."

"Trust me, Sirius."

********************

The cloud looked exactly the same as it had on previous occasions, but this time it was golden, the same colour as Harry had drawn it. Harry stood for a moment looking at the gold cotton candy and wondered just where he was. Had he inadvertently stepped into someone else's dream?

He walked along the surface for the first time and was relieved not to sink into the fluffy mass. Instead, he seemed to walk on air, millimetres above the cloud. There was no sign of the boy and Harry wondered how he would be able to contact him if he only ever came to the cloud when something horrible was happening.

More importantly, he didn't even know if he was in the right place.

Reaching the edge, he looked over and was relieved to find the familiar building beneath him. He sat, legs swinging over open space and stared down. It looked like it was raining below and he wondered whether that really was the case or just another illusion.

"Well, Ron, I've made it this far. What now?" He flopped back onto the softness and sank a few inches into the cloud. It held his weight comfortably, flowing around his body and carrying him back from the edge. He stretched out his arms out to the side, enjoying the sensation of near weightlessness. His finger dug into the surface, sinking further, and he grabbed handfuls of the cloud, letting it rain down over his body. The touch was like snowflakes on his bare skin. He grinned a child-like smile of enjoyment.

Then he slowly turned over onto his front, feeling like he was swimming through the cloud. And found himself looking at a pair of feet. The feet were connected to leather-clad legs and he followed them up.

"What are you doing here?"

Harry's journey up the body forced him to turn over onto his back again. The figure wore a black loose fitting shirt and his hands were balled into fists on his hips. Grey eyes looked down at him from a pale pointed face, platinum blond hair falling forward.

Eyes opening wide, Harry tried to scoot backwards, but it was like trying to move on ice. He made it several feet before finding his voice. "Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?"

"Don't look so surprised, Potter. What did you expect? The Prime Minister, The Queen, herds of wildebeests sweeping majestically across the plain?" Draco Malfoy folded his arms and just stood there, legs slightly apart.

Harry returned the look and finally swore under his breath. Of course, the little boy! Now he remembered how Malfoy had looked that first time they had met in the robe shop and then on the Hogwarts Express. But Malfoy? Surely he couldn't be the trigger. How could his father do such terrible things to his own son? 

Unless they were wrong and Lucius wasn't responsible for the curse after all.

He moved back a few more paces and sat very still.

Draco watched as Harry sank a little into the cloud, struggling to extricate himself. Maybe it was the hair or the glasses, but Draco always thought Harry looked just a little nervous or confused. At least Draco had an idea of what was going on, which was more than could be said for Potter.

Of course, Draco didn't understand why he was here, in his 'safe place'. He had never been here when things were okay and to find that Potter was there as well was even stranger.

"So, what are you doing here?" Draco repeated.

Harry wondered about standing. He felt at a disadvantage being on the ground while Malfoy stood over him. But he wasn't sure of his footing in the cloud and certainly didn't want to fall flat on his face. Instead, he tried to look nonchalant, but didn't think it really worked. Then he reminded himself why he was there. He'd come to help.

"I'm here to help," Harry finally said.

"Help?"

Didn't Malfoy know? He acted like he wasn't aware of the curse. "With the curse."

"Oh, that." Draco's head cocked to one side. "The curse."

Harry was starting to get annoyed by Draco's obvious indifference and was beginning to wonder what his involvement really was. The hairs on the back of his neck had started to rise and he shivered. Could he have stepped into some sort of trap? The stories Ron and Sirius had told him about Lucius Malfoy flashed through his mind and he debated whether a swift return to the studio might be in order. Then another thought overtook all the rest; he didn't have any idea how to get back. A pinprick of panic was beginning to grow in the pit of his stomach.

Draco suddenly flopped down to the ground in a movement so graceful that Harry was rather impressed. Draco clasped his hands around one knee, while his other leg stretched out before him. "I don't have a lot of time," he finally said. "He will realise something is going on and then I'll get punished."

Harry frowned, noting the change in Malfoy's demeanour. He had gone from cocky know-it-all to worried in the space of seconds and Harry was reminded of the expression on the photograph he had taken the previous day. "I know I've been cursed, and that someone's been linked to me through that curse. I also experience any curse put on that other person and it's not nice."

"An understatement," Draco interjected.

"And I know your mother was involved in casting the spell." Harry was completely gratified by the change in Malfoy's expression. Finally something Malfoy didn't know. "She poisoned me with the potion the curse uses."

"My mother knows about this?" Draco was perplexed. It was bad enough that someone who looked like his father was torturing him, but at least he had the satisfaction of knowing the real culprit was actually Voldemort rather than his father. But to hear his mother was involved was almost inconceivable. "Are you sure?"

"I know what she did. Whether she was aware of what happened, I don't know." Harry looked hard at Malfoy. "Are you coping?" Draco was still thinking about Narcissa and wasn't really listening.

"Malfoy?" Harry felt a strange tugging in his stomach and realised he was starting to be dragged back. "Malfoy, listen. I'm not sure how much longer I can stay here. Do you know why your father is doing this?"

"He's not my father."

"Lucius isn't involved?"

Draco sighed. "It's Voldemort."

Harry's eyes opened wide. "Voldemort? He's dead."

"No, he isn't. He's using me to get at you and he's got plans to kill you." Draco pulled back his shirt collar, revealing the scar at his throat. "He did this years ago. It sort of connects us through the curse."

"I..." Harry thought he might pass out. "Are you sure? About Voldemort?"

"Oh yes. He's..." Suddenly the whole story seemed ridiculous and Draco wondered what to tell Potter. Was he sure it was Voldemort? Did he really have any proof? But he knew he was right. Even here in his safe place, he could feel Voldemort's touch in his mind. "Look, Potter. I'm telling the truth. I don't know how to stop this, but believe me I want to."

Harry finally slipped out of his shock for a moment. "You have to get away from here."

"I can't leave. He's put blocking spells all around the estate." 

"Can you break through them?"

"No," Draco shook his head. "He's taken away my wand and even with one, I'm not sure. I've checked and it's very powerful dark magic." 

"Do you know what spells he's used?" The tug in Harry's stomach grew stronger.

"I don't know the name, but I saw it in a book in the restricted section at Hogwarts once. The book was called..." He clicked his fingers as he tried to recall. "Something stupid like _Restricted Access: Keep your Family In and your Enemies Out_. I do know it needs blood from the person you want to keep in."

The tugging sensation was almost painful and Harry got the impression everything was fading. "I can't hold this any longer. I will get you out of here. I promise." And everything went black.

"Harry!" Draco leapt at the fading figure and found nothing. He lay there on the cloud and realised he was shaking, the laid-back exterior fading away to be replaced by the fear he now felt constantly. Back down in his home, he was aware that Lucius was coming to his room. Voldemort would know that Potter had contacted him, know that Draco was trying to find a way out of his control. 

He became aware of the Dark Lord's approach and knew this time the punishment would be directed solely at him. Potter would not feel it because the beating was not cursed but for real. A fist into his stomach. A cane across his back. A kick in his side.

Up in his safe place, Draco grabbed for Sheba and curled up into a defensive ball, trying to cut out the sound of his own cries.

********************

When Harry woke, he realised he was no longer in the studio but on the bed in the flat. He could hear Ron and Sirius talking quietly off to his left and the room was now cast in shadow. It had to be late afternoon.

He didn't move. At first it was because he felt dizzy and then because he didn't want the others to know he was awake. He needed time to think, time to understand what had just happened. But that didn't change the fact that what he really wanted to do was to sit up and scream at the top of his lungs 'Voldemort's alive!', but somehow that didn't seem like a good idea. Screaming 'Voldemort's alive and Draco Malfoy's the trigger!' seemed even worse.

What was it Ron had called Draco? The Prince of Darkness? Harry didn't blame Ron after what had happened to his family, but how would Ron react to finding out that Draco was the trigger? Would be still be willing to help knowing who it was?

And the others? Hermione had clearly suffered at the hands of Lucius Malfoy's Aurors. And the twins would no doubt feel the same as Ron. What about Sirius? Even Snape, for whom Draco was once his blue-eyed boy, might not feel so kindly towards him now. All had reasons to hate the Malfoy family. Would they think Draco was lying? Harry wasn't sure he really believed what Draco had just told him. But like it or not, he did feel Draco's pain and that most definitely was real. But everyone else only had Harry's word as to what Draco was suffering, and they might just think he deserved it.

Then there was Voldemort. Harry had no doubt the Dark Lord had the power to take over another person, but that meant Harry hadn't trapped Voldemort and Dumbledore's sacrifice had been for nothing. 

He shivered at the thought, clutching at the blankets, and curled up a little as coldness ran through him. An image grew in his mind of Dumbledore and Voldemort being dragged into the cave, trapped by the icy crystal tendrils. He had always thought he'd betrayed the professor by sacrificing him in that way, but at least he had the knowledge that Voldemort was gone for good.

But now? If Draco was telling the truth then Harry had done Voldemort a favour by ridding him of Dumbledore, the one person capable of destroying him.

The groan he thought had been silent was clearly very vocal because almost instantly Ron and Sirius materialised at the bedside. 

"Harry, are you okay?" The concerned face of Ron came into blurred focus. "Come on, talk to us."

"I'm fine," Harry finally managed to say and he realised Sirius was holding him.

"We shouldn't have let you try it," Sirius was saying, apprehension in his voice. "It was too dangerous."

Extricating himself from the concerned duo, Harry tried to find his glasses. "Look, it worked." Ron passed them to him and he put them on, his world returning into sharp focus again.

"It did? You got to the cloud?" Ron's worried expression changed to delight. "Wow, I didn't think it would, you not being a seer or anything."

"What about the boy?" Sirius asked.

As quick as a flash, Harry knew he couldn't tell them about Draco, not yet anyway. "He was there too." It wasn't really a lie, just stretching the truth a little.

"Is it Malfoy?"

Harry stared at Sirius and opened his mouth to speak. How could he know about Draco? Then he realised he was talking about the father, not the son. "Yes, it's Lucius who's responsible." He bit at his lip for a moment. "But it's more than that. I need to see those photographs I took." He made to get up but Sirius stopped him.

"Ron." Sirius gestured towards the coffee table. "Would you please?"

Ron returned with the prints and sat on the edge of the bed. "What is it?"

Harry picked up the photo of Lucius and stared hard at the ghostly image behind the man. Could it be the thing he had seen rise from the cauldron in the graveyard seven years ago? "The boy told me Voldemort isn't dead. It wasn't him I trapped with Professor Dumbledore. He said Voldemort has taken over Lucius Malfoy."

They both looked at him as if he'd gone completely mad. Then at each other to check they had both heard the same thing.

"Look at the photo." He waved it in front of their shocked faces. 

"That could be anything," Ron blurted. "At the right angle it even looks like Nearly Headless Nick."

"LOOK!"

"Harry." Sirius' voice was very quiet. "If he is Voldemort how could you have been so close without your scar hurting?"

"I..." Harry dropped the photo and leaned back against the pillows. That hadn't occurred to him. "I wasn't that close. The camera has a telephoto lense. And I was off to one side." The excuses seemed very flimsy. "Maybe it's because he's in another body." He felt like a 16-year-old trying to justify some idiotic stunt and he was just about to concede defeat when a new thought sprang to mind. He sat back up again. "Look, when I thought I'd trapped Voldemort, nothing happened then either. Now, that either means being near Voldemort doesn't have the same effect since he used some of my blood in his resurrection, or he wasn't really Voldemort."

"Or, the boy is spinning you a lie," Sirius responded, studying the photo himself.

"But why lie? I know what he's going through, Sirius, and it's not pleasant believe me. We have to get him out of there."

"Where is he?"

He could hardly tell them it was the Malfoy estate without mentioning Draco. All sorts of ideas sped through his mind. He even thought about saying the boy had been kidnapped and was being held by Lucius, which actually wasn't that far from the truth. He looked into Sirius' eyes and took a deep breath, knowing he had no real choice. "I'm not sure, but I think it could be the Malfoy estate."

"I knew it." Ron looked triumphant. "They've kidnapped some poor kid and are using him. But you don't know who he is?"

Harry shrugged. "The boy told me Voldemort - Lucius, whatever you want to call him - has put up blocking spells which prevent him from leaving. Now, if we can find out what the counter-curse is, he could get out." Sirius was staring hard at him and Harry had to look away. _He knows I'm lying,_ Harry thought.

"Hermione is the person to research that. Did he tell you anything about the spell used?" Sirius still stared at him.

"He thought he'd seen it in a book at..." Harry knew he couldn't say Hogwarts. "In a book he's seen and that it uses his own blood." 

"Okay. We'll have to see if we can track it down. Otherwise we're going to have to go and get him out ourselves." Harry sighed, relieved Sirius finally looked away. "Ron, why don't you go and make some tea? And there's some chocolate in my bag upstairs"

Ron nodded and headed for the staircase.

Sirius suddenly took hold of Harry's chin and turned him round. The green eyes where huge as they met Sirius' dark gaze. "It's Draco isn't it?" He released his hold.

Harry nodded very slowly. "And his father is going to kill him." 

"Why didn't you say so?" Sirius hissed, his eyes flicking to the stairs in case Ron should reappear.

"How could I? You know what Ron thinks of Draco. He hates him with a vengeance after what happened to his Dad and to Bill." Harry's voice was a whisper. "What's he going to do if I tell him this?"

"You could try. He might surprise you."

Harry chose to ignore him. "And what about the rest of Ron's family? And Hermione? And you for that matter? Are you going to help him?"

"We're doing this because of you, Harry. If Draco is helped at the same time then it's a bonus."

"Are you telling me that if you could get me out of this and leave Draco suffering you would?" Harry's eyes blazed. "I wouldn't let anyone suffer like that. Not even someone I hate. Sirius, that makes us as bad as the other side."

"Harry, he deserves it. Look at what Lucius has done."

"Before this, I used to sleep really well, Sirius, but not now. I wake at night in a cold sweat from the nightmares, reliving the curse attacks. I don't like to believe it's possible, but I something think I can feel what's happening to Draco even now when no curse is happening. It's a niggling sensation like something is making my skin itch. This isn't a game."

"I never said it was a game. None of us have ever thought that." 

"And Draco isn't out there chasing down his father's enemies. Or do you think the sins of the father should be visited on the son?" Harry pulled away, surprised at his anger. "I'm not going to abandon him. I told him I would help and I will."

The sound of footsteps on the stairs reached them. "Okay. But you have to tell Ron."

"I will, but no yet."

"When?"

"I don't know!" He jumped to his feet, feeling momentarily lightheaded again. "How do you think I feel? Knowing it's him after everything he's done to me in the past? And what about Voldemort? God, if he's still alive everything I've believed is crap." He strode to the French windows and flung them open. "All I ever wanted to do was have an ordinary life. Why couldn't you all have just left me alone."

Sirius didn't move as Ron came back into the room. Ron saw Harry standing with his back to them, head bowed slightly. He looked across at Sirius and pointed a questioning hand at Harry. Sirius shook his head and mouthed 'leave him alone'.

Harry suddenly turned back, his hands on his hips, face set in an expression that said 'I am in charge'. "Okay, this is how it's going to be. Ron, the trigger is Draco Malfoy."

"What?" Ron looked like a 20-tonne truck had just flattened him. 

"Whatever your views on Malfoy as a person are, I want them put on hold. Okay?"

"No, it bloody isn't okay." Ron's face was quickly becoming the colour of his hair.

Harry strode into the room, stopping feet from Ron. "Then I'll have to ask you to step aside and not be involved. What happens to the trigger, I get to experience and the only way to stop it is to get the trigger to safety. I have to get Malfoy away from his father."

Ron opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it. "What if he's lying? What if this is another trap?"

"He isn't lying. At least not as far as the fact he's the trigger. It probably is a trap and I think Malfoy knows what this is all about. And that is why I need you with me on this, Ron. I need someone I can trust to get me through this. Are you going to help me?"

"Of course," Ron spluttered.

"Without killing him?"

"I can't promise that. But I'll work on controlling my impulses." 

Harry let out a long sigh and glanced across at Sirius. The older man nodded his approval. "Good." Harry reached a hand to his friend's shoulder. His legs suddenly buckled and Ron quickly caught him. "Now, can I have some of that chocolate before I collapse in to a big embarrassing heap?"

--------------------

**Next chapter:** Hermione visits Hogwarts. Sirius visits Lucius. Hedwig visits Emily. Just what is going through Voldemort's mind and what hold does he have over everyone? And will Ron control his impulses?

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, including: Clara2000, Krissie, Circe713, Thieving Magpie, AVK aka Anastasia, The Sugared Cheeseburger, Sophie W, Evil Windstar, Twinnie, Gia, *Britz, KobeG, Lily Vance, JediGinny, Kate Potter, Valerierohda, Persephone, Mim, Lindz - Hermione Gulliver, Lemurgirl3, AngelGoddess, snow lily, Kate, amadeus, Tara, Sandra Solaria and karina.

The "herds of wildebeests..." reference is taken from Fawlty Tower 

Any reviews, are more than welcome, either on-line or at the above email. Your comments are an integral part of the writing process. 

I've also been asked by a few people to set up a Yahoo group for this story. So if you'd like to comment, see what Thomas and Kovack (my cats and now stars of this story) look like, or just talk about Harry, Draco and friends, then click HERE to sign up for http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HP_comingofage. 


	7. Restricted Access

COA4.html 

**Title: Coming of Age: Chapter 7 - Restricted Access (7/?)**

**Author name:** Frances Potter

**Author email:** frances@forever.u-net.com

**Category: **Just about everything: Angst/Darkfic, Mystery, a little Action/Adventure, some Romance.

**Keywords:** Harry, Hermione, Ron, Sirius, Remus, Draco, Lucius, and Voldemort.

**Spoilers:** All books

**Rating:** PG-13 (UK rating 12). (Non-explicit adult themes, some bad language, mental distress/violence)

**Summary:** After finally defeating Voldemort, 18-year-old Harry Potter leaves the Wizarding world for good. Three years later, on his 21st birthday, Draco Malfoy finds out the Dark Lord isn't dead and he has plans not only for Draco but for Harry as well.

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author's Note:** Thanks to my wonderful Beta readers, Josie, Circe/Ashleigh, Antares Altair, Emily and Thursday. 

This chapter is rather longer than the previous ones. Hope everyone enjoys it. Due to situations beyond my control, there might be a delay in getting the next chapter posted. It is proving much more difficult than I thought!

**The Story so far... Or what you need to know. **

Harry thinks he has destroyed Voldemort. Now aged 21, he's living as a Muggle with girlfriend Emily. Lucius Malfoy is the Minister of Magic and Sirius Black is the Deputy Minister. Voldemort isn't destroyed; he's taken over Lucius Malfoy's body. Voldemort wants to get rid Harry by finishing off what he started 20 years before. He links Draco and Harry with a mirroring curse. The _Speculumous_ curse Voldemort has used on Draco and Harry is a mirroring spell. It means Harry feels any curse Voldemort uses on Draco. This means that if a killing curse were used on Draco (the trigger), Harry (the target) would also die. Non-charmed actions made against Draco do not affect Harry. So if Draco is beaten up in the old fashioned Muggle way, Harry would not be affected. Ron, Hermione, Sirius and others have been, unknown to Harry, protecting him from Voldemort's followers during the three years he had been with the Muggles. Ron (and the whole Weasley clan) hates Draco because he blames him for the deaths of Arthur and Bill. Hermione used to be Harry's girl friend, but she now lives with Ron. Neville Longbottom is an Auror. Hedwig is Animagus. 

********

Coming of Age Chapter Seven - _Restricted Access_

**_Wednesday 12th September 2001_**

The corridors of Hogwarts were silent. These days there were no students running to classes, no sound of laughter (or anger). Without that intrinsic factor, it seemed cold and lonely, like a sad facsimile of its former self.

There were still a couple of groups using the buildings, one of which was the Auror College. Lucius Malfoy had disbanded the ancient College in favour of his own Federation of Aurors. Graduates of the old were not welcome in the new organisation. So Alastor Moody and Remus Lupin, who ran the College, had moved it lock, stock and spell books to Hogwarts where the ancient protection magic prevented unwanted visitors and kept the old castle as a safe haven for those who still worked and studied there. 

Hermione Granger strode down the corridor leading to the library, very self conscious of her footsteps echoing in the stillness. The sun shone through the leaded glass windows; casting the corridor in stripes of light and shadow, dust floating in the air.

The library was much the same as it had been when she was a student, except Madam Pince no longer ruled over her little empire. She had retired, supposedly to fulfil her ambition to tour the magical sites of the world. The new librarian was Justin Finch-Fletchley, an ex-Hufflepuff student who had attended Hogwarts at the same time as Hermione. Justin was undertaking the almost impossible task of cataloguing not only the library but also every other book still held in the castle.

He was nowhere to be seen and Hermione found she had the library to herself. The silence in the vast room was unnerving, and she felt she could sense the magic contained in the books. It filled the library like static electricity and she was sure if she listened hard enough, she could hear the voices of past Hogwarts students echoing around the book stacks.

"What are you looking for boy?"

"I don't believe it, I'm still eight inches short."

"All the copies of Hogwarts: A History have been taken out."

"I told Justin to hide up in our dormitory."

"Why would I want to attack Muggle-borns?"

"Let's try some simple spell books then."

"Will you shut up for a bit please? I'm trying to concentrate." 

She shivered as the memories flooded back and quickly pushed such thoughts to one side. Sometimes it was painful remembering those happy times because it had all been tainted by what had happened later. Voldemort had stripped the joy from so many lives and she was no exception.

It terrified her to think that Voldemort might still win. How could they defeat a person who it seemed impossible to kill? And if the story about Lucius Malfoy was true, the future didn't bare thinking about. The man had so much power already. Add to that Voldemort and the future looked damned.

A fleeting memory surfaced, one she had struggled to keep hidden. She had been at Medi-College when the Aurors had turned up. They had taken any student not considered pureblood in for questioning and Hermione had been amongst those people. She had been held for almost a week. They had questioned her, constantly wanting to know about her relationship with Harry Potter, constantly asking where he was and about his claims that Voldemort had risen again. 

Then on the fifth day Lucius Malfoy had questioned her non-stop for hours on end. Malfoy himself, something she had never told anyone. Had Voldemort already taken him over by then? She wondered if she had sensed anything of the malevolence of the Dark Lord. But for all her knowledge of him, she had never actually been near Voldemort so didn't have first-hand experience of the man. The memory of Malfoy's quiet voice on that day still made her shudder with terror and she wondered whether she would ever truly forget.

She, of course, had been lucky. She had gotten away. But what would Malfoy do if he got his hands on Harry?

Well, she wasn't going to let Malfoy get Harry. She had kept him safe for the last three years and she would find a way to deal with the _Speculumous_ curse. And she would get the trigger free even though it was Draco Malfoy.

Of all the people it could have been, why him? She tried to picture Draco in her mind and realised the image was of a 16-year-old rather than as he might look now as her contemporary. She knew he played Quidditch only because Ron had spent days ranting when the Malfoy Corporation had bought the Chudley Cannons Quidditch team. It had gotten worse. Not only was Draco brought in as Seeker, but also the team colours were changed from orange to green and silver. The fact the team won the league in the first season was totally lost on Ron.

But it was more than a Quidditch team that caused the hatred in Ron and the rest of the Weasley family. The deaths of Arthur and Bill Weasley had done that. Death Eaters had caught them and Ron had been trying to rescue them when they were killed. Draco Malfoy might not have performed the actual _Avada Kedavra_ curse, but he had been there and Ron blamed him for doing nothing to stop it.

Hermione threw her bag noisily onto a table, the sound breaking the library's spell, and she rummaged for the parchment with the book's title on it. Not that she needed the paper, the name was burned into her brain: _Restricted Access: Keep your Family In and your Enemies Out_ - the book which Draco claimed contained the binding curse preventing him from leaving the Malfoy estate. He had told Harry there was a copy of the book in the library. It would be interesting to see if he was right.

The restricted section of the library was no longer off limits and she entered without fear of setting off any alarms. The book was there, but she was surprised to find it wasn't one of the musty old tomes but a relatively new edition, first published in 1982. There was no author listed for the book and she wondered who was responsible for the work. Taking the book back to the table, she began working her way through it, looking for anything coming close to the right enchantment.

Two hours later, she had weeded down her original list to four possibilities, each used to keep someone confined by using that person's blood. She read through the likely candidates for what seemed the hundredth time and eventually threw the piece of parchment down in frustration. Short of going to the Malfoy estate, how would she ever be able to narrow it down even further?

"Hermione! Hi!"

She looked up at the owner of the excited voice, her manner completely the opposite.

It was Harry. He stood before her, eyes sparkling green, face flushed, hair windblown and a smile so enormous he looked slightly demented. "I've just flown up. On my Firebolt." He added as if explanation was needed. "I'd forgotten how wonderful it was to fly. I think it's the most fun I've had with my clothes on." He took off his cloak and flopped down onto a chair.

"You..." Hermione wanted to be cross with him, but the look on his face was so endearing it was almost impossible. "Ron let you fly up here? On your own?"

"He doesn't know. When he said something about meeting you here, I was going to come up on the train. Then Ron gave me my broom back and it was such a brilliant day I couldn't resist it."

She looked aghast. "What if you'd had another attack? You could have fallen off and broken your stupid neck."

His expression turned thoughtful, but quickly reverted to the demented smile. "But it was so wonderful," he repeated. "So, how are things going?"

Hermione finally smiled, finding herself infected by his happiness. "Not bad." This was the first time she'd seen Harry since the party and she felt a sense of embarrassment rise up. It was fortunate he was acting so laid back. When Ron had asked her to do Harry's research and for her to meet him at Hogwarts, she had been concerned about how the meeting might go. But for the moment she was just pleased to see Harry again. "Ron told me about the link, that you managed to find out who the trigger is. About Draco Malfoy."

Harry nodded. "Did he tell you about Voldemort?"

She nodded. "Do you believe him?"

The smile had slowly evaporated and the boyish charm replaced by adult concern. "I don't want to. If Draco is telling the truth, it changes everything doesn't it?" He looked at her sadly. "It means I lost Dumbledore for nothing and the last three years have been a lie. I left for a lot of reasons, but one was because I thought everything was okay - that I'd left the world a safer place. Not the case after all."

Hermione fiddled with her quill. She was desperate to hear the whole story of why Harry had fled, but knew this was not the time or the place. "You made a choice, Harry, and the life you've had was just that - your choice. It's not a lie."

"If I'd known about Voldemort I wouldn't have gone. I'd have stayed and carried on the fight."

"Are you happy?"

He looked shocked at the question. "Happy?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes. Forget Malfoy and Voldemort and the curse. Have you been happy with your life? Emily, the photography, the whole Muggle thing.

He thought for a moment and then nodded. "Yeah, it's been good. Being a Muggle is actually fun and I love the photography. Did you ever see my book?"

She nodded. "Ron got me a copy. Well, I actually got it so he could give it to me, if you see what I mean. He doesn't like Muggle shops. It's very nice."

"I'm supposed to be going to do a shoot in America in a few days." She opened her mouth to argue. "But I've cancelled it. I can't believe I would do that for something magical."

"What about Emily? Do you love her? Does she know?"

"About the magic? No, not yet. Hermione, what would you feel like if someone came up to you and said, 'by the way, I'm a wizard and you could be in great danger'?"

"I would probably think you'd gone mad." She noticed he hadn't answered her question about whether he loved Emily.

Harry ran a finger over a pattern on the table, carved by some former student with their quill. "I did think about packing and leaving her a note."

"That's awful, Harry. You can't do that. That's what you did to me and it really stank and..." Then suddenly it struck her what he was saying. "Are you coming back?" Her voice was very quiet.

"I don't think I ever really went away, Hermione. It feels like I've just been asleep for a very long time and I've woken up again. Are you happy?"

She nodded. "It's been hard. After you went." She looked away at a spot somewhere over his right shoulder. "I know Sirius has told you things. I couldn't believe you just left. I hated you for that."

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"Well, you did." She glared at him, a look full of three years of hurt. "I'm not sure I'll ever be able to forgive you."

"Don't say that." He reached out and covered her hand with his own. "I don't think I could bear it if you hated me."

"Hate doesn't begin to sum up what I feel for you, Harry Potter." She turned her hand and took hold of his fingers. "Just don't walk out again." She raised his hand to her lips and briefly kissed it. "If you do, you won't have to worry about Lucius Malfoy because I will hunt you down and kill you myself." Hermione dropped his hand as if its touch suddenly burned her. "I..." She could feel herself blushing. "We should get on with this curse." She cleared her throat and pushed the sheet of parchment towards him.

Harry rubbed his hand where she had kissed him. "Hermione, I don't want you to think..."

"Harry, don't, please."

He carried on regardless. "At the party. I didn't mean anything." He closed his eyes, realising just how crass that sounded. "I'd never want to come between you and Ron."

"I love Ron and he loves me."

"I know. I can tell. I'm not asking you to take me back or anything. I just need you to forgive me and be my friend." 

The green eyes look pleadingly and she wished he would look away. She resisted the urge to reach out and hug him. "I'll always be your friend, Harry. I never stopped being that even after you went away. But I'm not sure I can forgive you, not just yet anyway."

"Well, that's a start. I'll work on the rest." He leaned forward and picked up the parchment. "So, these are the binding curses?"

Herminie was grateful for the talk to return to something less painful. She finally understood why Ron had been so angry with Harry and part of her could easily have slipped into that same emotion. "I'd expected this to be ancient or dark magic, but this book is only 20 years old. Of course, it is possible the spells in it are actually older and have just been published in a new book. Equally, they might be old and reworded at some point. Old or new, all of them are very complex and there is no indication of counter-curses in the book." 

Harry read through the four curses and saw the similarities and the subtle differences in them. "Do you know if these were written by the same person?"

"No. I'll try and reverse-engineer each and see what type of counter-curse might work. It'll be more than a _Finite Incantatem_ though."

"How long?"

"How long is a piece of string? We might never work it out. I don't even know which of these four curses it is, so I could spend weeks working on the wrong one. It might not even be one of these. One way of finding out would be to go to the Malfoy estate and see if we can predict the spell for ourselves."

Harry looked thoughtful. "Ron and Sirius have told me about Neville Longbottom. That he's an Auror now."

"He's brilliant."

"Do you think he might be willing to go to the estate and have a look?" He saw an expression of concern on her face. "I don't mean actually to enter the estate or try and break the curse, but if he can pick it up, it might give you an idea which one it is."

"Well, he's here in the castle, so you can ask him yourself."

********************

**_Friday 14th September 2001_**

"Will he be much longer?"

The stern looking secretary glanced up and gave a strange straight-mouthed smile before returning to her work. She didn't comment, as she hadn't on the last three occasions Sirius Black had asked the same question.

Remus Lupin got to his feet and crossed to the coffee percolator. He refilled his cup and gestured with the jug at Sirius. "Top up?" 

"No. If I drink any more, I'll never sleep again."

Returning to his seat next to his friend, Remus sipped at the coffee. It had taken on that thick bitter taste from having been made hours before. He grimaced and leaned towards Sirius. "Are you sure you want to go through with this? We could just up and leave right now."

"I have to know if what Harry said is true," he spoke sotto voce, careful that the secretary could not overhear. "If he is Voldemort then everything changes."

"If he is, I hope you don't push things too far. I don't want to end up scraping you off the walls." He paused thoughtfully. "And the ceiling. Oh, and let's not forget the carpet." His quiet voice was tinged with sarcasm.

"I won't." Sirius tossed the magazine he had been reading back onto the table. "I've had enough of this." He got to his feet, strode across the office and leaned forward across the desk. "Listen, my dear lady, I am the Deputy Minister. I do not sit and wait." She looked at him. "We are going in ready or not."

The eye-to-eye contact continued for several seconds as each tried to out-stare the other. It was a draw and the woman finally responded simply. "You can go in now, Mr Black."

Sirius glared harder, but resisted the temptation to inflict some nasty curse on her. "Thanks for nothing." He pushed off the desk and crossed to the large oak double doors, which opened automatically as he approached. "Remus," he said. 

In the palatial office, the pair came to a halt before the surprisingly simple desk - all part of the Minister of Magic's outward persona of simple service to the Wizarding community. The fact the desk cost more than most people earned in a month was not common knowledge. Simplicity costs almost as much as ostentation, Sirius pondered.

"Lucius."

Lucius Malfoy carried on reading the parchment on the desk before him. He signed it, carefully rolled it up and sealed it closed with a blob of wax and a tap of his wand. "Sirius. What a pleasant surprise." He cast a glance at Lupin and looked like there was a nasty smell under his nose. "I see you've brought a friend."

"I think you know Remus Lupin."

"We've met. Have a seat." Sirius sat, his long legs stretched before him. "Tea? Coffee?" 

"No. I've had plenty while I've been waiting."

Remus had to fetch a chair from the other side of the room. He deliberately placed it to the side of the desk so that Lucius couldn't look at both his visitors at the same time.

If Lucius was concerned about the manoeuvre, he didn't show it. He sat back against the black dragon hide of his chair (simple but tasteful), and steepled his fingers before him. Deliberately ignoring Lupin, he directed his comments at Sirius. "So, what can I do for you? If this is to be another conversation about the Auror College, you already have my answer."

Remus remained silent, not rising to the other man's comments. He was with Sirius for one reason only - to see if he could perceive any presence of Voldemort. The man looked like the Malfoy he knew, but they had no idea when Voldemort might have taken over Malfoy. He could have been there for so long that people would be completely at ease with the Dark Lord in his new form.

"I am planning to raise the matter again, Lucius. In fact I've already tabled a question about it for the next Council meeting. You will see it on the agenda when it is issued. The College is a fine old institution which has served the Wizarding community for centuries."

"It was riddled with corruption and non-purebloods." He looked pointedly at Remus. "I know you are running a training centre at Hogwarts, Lupin. I will have it closed down."

Remus quietly met the other's gaze. "I am running a private club which has all the necessary licences, Minister. We are doing nothing illegal." Grey eyes flared at him and Remus thought he saw a flicker of red deep inside them.

"We will see. Sirius, I am a busy man."

"Then I won't beat about the bush. I want to talk to you about my godson."

"Oh? What has Harry Potter been up to now?" He sneered, Harry's name said with contempt.

"Someone is threatening him, Lucius, and I am not very happy about it." Sirius met the man's gaze without blinking. He inwardly shivered at the thought of whom he might be facing off with now. But his years in Azkaban had hardened him against most things and nothing this man could do would come even close to what he had suffered in that prison. 

"What does this have to do with me?"

Sirius reached into his robes and took out Harry's photograph of Isabel/Narcissa. He rose and carefully laid it on the desk in front of Lucius. "I think you are involved."

Lucius looked at the photograph and Remus saw his jaw tighten imperceptibly. "And this is supposed to be?"

"You wife poisoned him and I don't think she decided to do that all by herself. This has 'Lucius Malfoy' stamped all over it."

He looked up at Sirius, who had remained standing with his hands resting lightly on the desk. "Did you surmise this all from a dodgy double-exposed photograph that a child could fake?"

"I know what Harry had told me and I'm putting you on notice. If anything happens to him, I will hold you personally responsible." 

"Are you threatening me, Sirius?"

"Yes, Lucius, I am. I'm not your son who you can beat into submission and torture to your heart's content. Other people might be scared of you, but I remember what you were like at Hogwarts. You might be a few years older than me, but you were always a simpering Slytherin idiot."

Lucius just smiled. "And you were a crass Gryffindor who was a pretentious moron. Strutting around like you owned the place. Like you still do now. It's a shame you didn't learn humility in Azkaban." He came to his feet. "Don't push me, Black. And my son is my own concern."

"Stay away from Harry." Sirius straightened, matching the other's stance, his voice dark.

"If I wanted to do something to him, then there is nothing you could do to stop me." His voice had become very quiet.

"Just try me." Sirius moved forward threateningly.

"Fool." Lucius' hand shot out, pointing directly at Sirius' heart. "_Crucio_."

Sirius dropped to the floor like a stone.

Remus reached for his wand as he came to his feet.

"Don't!" Lucius now had a wand in his hand. "Just give me a reason, werewolf, and I will kill you here and now. No one will miss you."

Remus held up his hands.

"When he wakes up, tell him to keep out of my way. Next time I will not be so magnanimous." With that he strode across the room, disapparating as he walked.

Even as Malfoy disappeared, Remus quickly drew his wand. "_Finite Incantatem._" He dropped to his friend's side. "Sirius?"

"Bugger that hurt." Sirius hissed as he pulled out the talisman hanging round his neck. Remus quickly removed the chain and dropped the talisman to the floor. It was red hot and burned his fingertips. "At least it worked."

"You are an exceedingly lucky man. If the curse had missed the talisman, you'd still be writhing around the floor in agony. He could have killed you."

"Always a risk." He looked down at his chest where a burn from the talisman covered his heart. "I knew you could do it." He hauled himself up to a chair. "But was my pain worth it?"

Remus began to treat the burn. When Sirius had turned up with his preposterous plan, he had refused to be any part of it. Sirius had wanted to goad Malfoy in the hope Remus might be able to sense Voldemort's presence in the man. Of course, Remus had reminded him that goading the possible Dark Lord might just lead to a very painful confrontation at best and death at worst. But Sirius was adamant and finally Remus had come up with the idea of the protection talisman. Great idea, but only effective if it came between the curse and the man. If Malfoy had aimed his curse a little higher or lower, then Sirius would have felt its full force. "Malfoy is definitely possessed. I can't say for sure it's Voldemort, but he's extremely powerful. He didn't need a wand to curse you. And his reaction to your comment about Harry made it clear to me he's involved up to his nasty blond head."

"What about the comment about Draco?"

"Didn't like that either. Don't you think that was pushing it a bit? If he thinks Draco has been in touch with Harry, it might push Lucius over the edge. He could kill Draco."

"Then everything would be fine. No trigger - no target." 

"Sirius," Remus kept his voice quiet and very measured. "If Malfoy uses a curse to kill Draco then Harry will die too."

"Then we'd better hope he does it the old fashioned Muggle way." Sirius moved his arm, trying to ease the pain radiating from his shoulder. He noted the look on Remus' face - shock at his cold-heartedness. Sirius chose to ignore it. "Well, at least now we know."

Remus thought to follow through on the comment, but decided not to. To argue would not help the current situation. "And how, Padfoot, does that help us deal with anything?"

"Give me time, Moony and I'll come up with a plan."

"Hmm. I just hope it's better than this one."

********************

Voldemort apparated into the main entrance of the Malfoy Manor and continued walking without breaking his stride. Servants scurried out of his path as he strode down the corridors, his robes billowing about him. Finally, he reached his study, opened the door and slammed it behind him with a satisfying crash that made the ornate crystal chandelier rattle.

He stood stock still in the middle of the room, the only movement being his hands as they clenched and unclenched spasmodically. A vase on the other side of the room suddenly shattered as his pent-up anger found a focus. Water and flowers cascaded to the floor, the flowers ending up as nothing but ash as he set them aflame.

Forcing himself to become calm, Voldemort crossed to one of the large floor-to-ceiling windows and looked out at the gardens and woodlands beyond the building. He had been stupid. How could he, the most powerful wizard in the country, allow Black to goad him into such a stupid confrontation? Black was a problem at the best of times, but now he had made it clear what his intentions were. Black knew too much and he couldn't be allowed to ruin preparations, not now when the time was so close.

Voldemort leaned a hand against the window and looked at his fingers spread against the glass. This body, even with all its flaws and hidden memories, still gave him great pleasure. It had been his choice to take it. His choice to leave the snake-like body formed during his resurrection. That ... thing ... created by Pettigrew's inept version of the ritual Voldemort had taught him, had been fine to begin with, when he only had to deal with his own loyal followers. But he had needed something more ... pleasing for the general populace. Who would follow someone who looked like a monster?

It had taken him some time to realise it would take more than bluster and throwing about deadly curses to achieve what he wanted - the total subjugation of the Wizarding community to his will. He had tried before many years ago to use terror to achieve his aims. It had worked to some extent, but to hold people with just terror over any length of time was doomed to failure.

That was why his return to power had not been with a loud crash and fire and brimstone as the first time. Now he was slowly bending them to his will. Slowly and carefully making everyone obedient and compliant to him. They wanted him in control, saw him as their saviour and the whole experience had been much more pleasurable. Of course, there were always the few who didn't agree. Such as that small band of no-hopers led by Sirius Black and, by the sounds of it, Harry Potter.

Dictators, even benevolent dictators, needed to be photogenic. His resurrected body had been far from suitable so he had decided to take someone else's. Of course he would have preferred one similar to his original, destroyed during that abortive attack on the baby Potter. He remembered with pleasure his tall form, lithe and strong with black curly hair and dark brown eyes. To find a similar vessel would have been perfect.

Then he found Lucius Malfoy, who had the added bonus of already being part of the ruling elite. Rich and powerful, Malfoy had been just the right material. And with his blond hair and piercing grey eyes, he was a dream before the cameras. Voldemort knew he would possess that body. He took it, making Malfoy believe it was his choice and that he was doing his master a great service.

Of course, Voldemort had told the boy his father was trapped with Dumbledore, but nothing could have been further from the truth. Albus Dumbledore was the one person capable of defeating him. The body used in his trap had been nothing but an animated husk used to fool Dumbledore and to lead him to his doom. Malfoy had never left his body. He was here, with him. Sometime, he could sense Malfoy's presence. Sometimes he could feel him struggling to get out. But Malfoy was nothing in the greater scheme of things.

He was aware of the other's memories. At first he had needed them to help him play the part, but now he had carved out a new life for Lucius Malfoy and he didn't need the original owner any more. He smiled. One of the benefits of the ceremony he planned for Halloween was that he would finally get rid of the remains of Malfoy for good. 

This body, this life, was his by right and he, Voldemort, would use it to fulfil his deepest desires.

But Malfoy had almost ruined everything today. It had been Malfoy's anger that had forced him to strike down Black in such a pointless display of power. Malfoy, who had come so close to killing Lupin. All of his plans come close to ruin by a few simple stupid mistakes. He would not let it happen again.

He wondered how much Black really knew. It was clear he knew of the _Speculumous_ curse, but was Black aware of the full nature of the curse? As for Potter, he had hoped to keep Harry separate from his old friends and the additional strength their protection would give him. But he wasn't overly concerned. Potter was already feeling the effects of the curse. He would become weaker and weaker over the coming weeks. By the time of the ceremony Potter would be unable to defend himself and his capitulation would be so very easy. 

He was more concerned about Draco. Did Black's comments about the boy mean he knew Draco to be the trigger? Voldemort knew he needed to keep the boy on his side. If Draco turned, no longer stayed faithful to him, the ceremony might not take place. It was unfortunate, but he would have to alter his strategy a little to make sure Black didn't spoil things. As for Draco, he would have to move his plans forward there as well.

"Master." Voldemort glanced towards the voice. Narcissa was standing by the now open door. He beckoned her over and she was quickly at his side, kissing his hand.

"Is everything all right, my lord?"

Voldemort found a smile creep across his face as he remembered how acquiescent the woman was with him and how resistant she has been with Malfoy. Memories never lie. Narcissa had been such a willing partner both in and out of the bedroom. It would be a shame if he ever had to get rid of her.

"Do not call me master or lord. Someone might hear you. I am Lucius and no one must think otherwise." She nodded and leaned into him. "Someone may know of my plans. It is important your son is kept here. On no account must he be allowed to leave the building. Is that understood?" He tipped her face up to look at him.

"He always was a strong-willed boy."

"I don't care. Confine him to his rooms. If I loose him, I loose Potter again." He leaned down and kissed her hard, savouring the physical sensations that he had been deprived of for 18 years. Narcissa responded, biting his lip and drawing blood, the look in her eyes daring this powerful wizard to chastise her. "You like to take chances don't you, my little flower. One day, you might push me too far."

"I am..." she ran a finger across his lips, carrying on down the line of his neck to the silver clasp on his robe. "My master's very willing servant." The robe fell in a heap at his feet.

"I want to speak to your son, but that can wait." He pushed her to the floor and followed her down.

********************

Two floors up, Draco Malfoy was sitting on the windowsill, one leg dangling out of the window, and the other bent at the knee. His gaze moved absently from the two gardeners busy with autumn pruning to the estate boundary where, in his mind, he could imagine the shimmering of the binding spells preventing him from leaving.

Of course, he had tried to leave; had to prove to himself Voldemort's barrier did actually exist. It was most definitely there and without a wand he stood no chance of getting past it.

Draco was starting to question his own sanity these days. The idea that his mother was involved with his torture was almost too much to bear. He had wanted to ask her why, but she was deliberately ignoring him these days. He also wondered whether he had actually dreamed that Harry Potter had been there in his safe place, on the cloud overlooking the estate. The cloud had been created out of childhood terror - a place where he could retreat; where he could hide from and cope with the pain. Mental, physical and emotional. As a child, he had always believed the place was real - as real as the one he lived in every day of his life. But now, as an adult, he realised it was probably a mental projection. But then, with magic, who could tell where reality ended and fantasy began.

Until Voldemort had cursed him, the cloud had been HIS place and his alone. Then another person had been there. He hadn't made any connection until that awful night when Voldemort had used this twisted form of the _Cruciatus_ curse and broken his body. To be told afterwards that he was being tortured to get at Harry Potter had been a real kick in the teeth.

Harry Potter! Draco kicked a heel at the wall. Even now, after all these years, Potter still dogged his footsteps, causing him problems. What was it Voldemort had told him on his birthday? That he was linked with Potter? Draco's hand traced the lightning bold scar at his throat put there by the Dark Lord. Sometimes he would go for hours without thinking about the scar - days even. Then he would see it in the mirror and the hopelessness of the situation would become crashing reality again. He would remember he was now a prisoner in his own home, cut off from everything and with no idea of what was going on in the outside world.

He wondered how badly Potter felt the curses. As much as he did? Less? More? Once it would have given him some pleasure to know Potter was suffering as he was, but now things felt different. A part of him blamed Potter for his own pain - after all if it weren't for the Dark Lord's obsession with Potter, Draco would be safely carrying on with his life. But there was something else going on now, a connection through the shared pain, and Draco wasn't sure he liked it very much. 

He remembered the last visit to the cloud. The cloud had been different - the colour and texture all wrong - and he had been himself, rather than a child. More importantly, nothing terrible had been happening to him at the time. It was only after Potter disappeared that the pain had started. He winced slightly, aware of his bruised ribs from the toe of Voldemort's boot.

Could that golden cloud have actually been Harry Potter's secret place? And was he, Draco, somehow called to it by the connection between them? He sighed. Or perhaps it was all a dream and no on had promised to rescue him. What was it Potter had said a week ago? _I will get you out of here_. He might not like Potter, but the one thing he remembered from school was that Potter always kept his promises. Perhaps his promises didn't count when they were made to a Malfoy.

"I trust you are not thinking of jumping."

Draco nearly did fall out of the window at the intruding voice. 

A vice-like grip clamped around his arm, pulling him back. It was Voldemort.

"Don't you ever knock?" That was not exactly the right words to say to the Dark Lord, but Draco was beyond caring. What could he do to hurt him any more? He swung his leg back over the sill and stood. "What is it to be this time? Flood? Fire? Pestilence? Or just another good kicking?" He strode past the man masquerading as his father and waited for the axe to fall.

Nothing happened.

He got as far as the bed, his body almost rigid with fear.

Still nothing.

Draco turned, a hand on the footboard of the bed to steady him. "What do you want from me now?"

"To talk."

It has been the last thing Draco had expected. "Talk?"

Voldemort moved over to the settee and, pointing at a chair, he sat down. "I want to explain."

Draco couldn't decide what scared him more. The quiet threatening voice Voldemort had used the night he smashed the Vodka bottle, or this equally quiet voice oozing charm and anxiety. The man actually sounded concerned and caring; the type of person you'd ask to baby-sit or take your old granny to her day centre. His father had a similar voice that he used after punishing Draco. It went with his tirade of "I don't want to do this" and "You make me punish you". It never sounded like he meant it, yet when Voldemort used the same tone, it actually did sound sincere.

"Please sit down."

That was just too much. Please? Voldemort was saying 'please'. He walked very slowly to the chair and perched on the edge, his whole body ready to cut and run if necessary. "Explain?"

"You are important, Draco. If my plans when you were a baby had gone correctly, you would have grown up with me. I would have been your father and your teacher. Your biological father did not want you. He didn't understand what your future was to be and I was no longer there to take over that responsibility."

"You've spent the last six weeks torturing me." Voldemort looked at him, and Draco thought he saw something flash deep in the eyes. Or was the red glint a reflection of the sunlight?

"When I realised the ritual with Harry Potter could still take place, I needed to re-establish the link between you and Potter that I had created when you and he were born. But I also needed to weaken him. I knew there would be only one opportunity to get to Potter. I had no option but to use you as the trigger for the mirroring spell." He pointed a hand at the boy and saw him flinch away. "I can take away the pain and the memories."

Draco saw the red glint again. The pain and memories of the attacks, both real and imaginary, were the only things keeping his sanity in check at the moment. "No, I'll keep that for the moment." 

"Very well. Remember it is your choice. Your father might not have wanted you, but I do know he has taught you well. Explained why pureblood lines in the Wizarding community are so important. You understand how inter-breeding with Mudbloods and Muggles is diluting us. As we become less pure, our magic falters and our powers diminish. If we allow this to carry on, we will be no more than Muggles in a very few generations."

"But you're not pureblood."

Voldemort's face became like thunder and Draco thought he could feel angry magic crackle around him. "And it has taken someone whose father was a Muggle to realise the danger the Wizarding community is in." His gaze bore into Draco and he waited until the younger man looked away. "I am allowing you a certain latitude here, Draco, but do not presume you are safe from my anger. Remember who you are talking to."

"Sorry, Master." Draco was shocked at his response. The word had come unbidden, without thinking and he struggled to mentally distance him from the concept that this person was his master.

"Good. You do well to remember that. Potter has powers he is so far unaware of. Without Dumbledore to teach him, he has no way of knowing how to use them. I intend to use them, but they have to be removed from him, as they should have been when he was a baby. Draco, imagine how you will feel being able to wield his power. During the Halloween ceremony these powers will revert to you, and together we will turn the Wizarding and Muggle worlds upside down."

"But you are going to take those powers for yourself. What will happen to me?"

"Most will revert to me, but you will still retain some. If you do as I say. If you remember where your life is supposed to lead. Draco, I know Potter has been in touch with you. He is lying. He is using you and will throw you aside when he has finished with you. He will destroy everything you need and love. Everything you have lived for. Follow me and I will teach you how to use your power. We will rule - father and son - and no one will be able to stop us." Voldemort came to his feet and crossed to Draco's side. This time Draco didn't flinch away. He placed a hand on Draco's shoulder, fingers brushing along his collarbone to the scar. "Don't let me down. Don't let your people down. Don't let people like Potter corrupt you."

Dark magic flowed freely from Voldemort's hand, seeping through the skin-to-skin contact. Draco gasped as it surged through him, leaving him light-headed, almost drunk. He looked up at Voldemort and found himself mesmerised by the man. He felt the Dark Lord's dominating strength saturate his being. It reached deep within his subconscious and ignited long forgotten memories. History. Purity of race. The Ancestral line. Family. It touched his fears and made him forget who had actually caused all his pain. In place of that pain it left only a fear of Harry Potter, his arch nemesis. A fear that Potter would kill Voldemort and that Draco had to protect his lord and master.

Slowly, Draco slid from the chair and onto his knees. "I won't let you down, Father."

********************

**_Saturday 15th September 2001_**

Harry had just finished shaving when he thought he heard the screams. He stood for a moment, staring at his reflection in the mirror, and then the scream came again. He fumbled automatically for his glasses and ran.

Scrambling onto the rail of the spiral staircase, he slid down to the lounge much quicker than taking the stairs. He flew off the end and staggered a few steps over the wooden floor. The screams came from the kitchen and he raced across the room. "Emily!"

He had expected to find the kitchen full of Death Eaters. Instead he found Emily standing in the middle of the room, her hands protecting her head. "Emily." He shot towards her.

"There's a bird," she shrieked.

"What?"

"A bird!" A hand pointed upwards. A large white owl was sitting on the rafters. It swooped back down, just missing Emily's head. She squeaked, ducking into Harry's arms, and he pulled her protectively to his bare chest. As the bird settled on the table, he pushed Emily towards the door he had just come through.

Once in the lounge, he stood with her for a moment, pushing her hair from her face. "Are you okay?"

"It just flew in and I..." She was waving a hand in the direction of the open kitchen window. "It wouldn't leave me alone." Through the open door she stared at the bird, which seemed to be staring back at her. "I think it hates me."

"Don't be silly." Harry held her close, shooting daggers at the snowy owl. "Now, I'm going to get it out of the kitchen. You stay here." She nodded and finally let him go.

Harry returned to the kitchen and closed the door behind him. The owl unfurled her wings and flew to his outstretched arm, her claws hardly touching his bare skin. "Hedwig," he whispered. "What are you doing here?" The owl hooted a greeting and indicated a message tied to her leg. "Just don't change into a woman, not here." He took the note and let Hedwig jump back onto the table. "Owls, I can explain, but a woman? No."

"Oh? Why not?"

He didn't see the change, but one moment there had been an owl on the table, the next a woman was sitting in her place. Dressed in long white robes, she set on the edge of the table, swinging her legs. "Hello, Harry," she whispered.

Harry's eyes opened wide and he stared worriedly between the woman and the kitchen door. "Oh no." His hand went to his mouth and he waved at her, indicating she should be quiet. "What are you doing here?" he whispered

She smiled. "Delivering a message." She pointed to the role of parchment in his hand while studying his face. There were dark marks under his eyes and he looked very tired. She dropped to the floor and crossed to his side. "Are you all right?" Her hand brushed his face with an anxious touch, concern in her voice.

"I'm not sleeping well." Harry took a deep breath. "Did you have to scare Emily?"

"Well, give me a few little pleasures." She continued studying him. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Harry? Have you got rid of it?" Emily's voice shouted through the door.

"Not yet!" He turned back to the woman and couldn't hide his disappointment at finding an owl in her place. "Oh." The owl looked up at him, her head to one side and hooted quietly at the parchment. "Okay." He quickly unrolled it and read the single line: _Harry, we need to talk. I'm coming over later today. Sirius_

"Oh, no." Sirius coming here? He had been meaning to talk to Emily, to tell her everything, but somehow the right moment hadn't occurred. Perhaps he could find an excuse to go to Winchester, but Emily would probably want to come with him. Then he remembered. Girls Night Out! Or, in this case, Girls Weekend. How could he have forgotten that Emily, Candice and some their other girl friends where having a weekend at a health spa for Candice's birthday. She would be gone until late the next day. He heaved a sigh of relief and found a pen. The replay was as short as the original message. _Sirius, please make it late afternoon. Harry_

Harry turned to the owl. "Will you to take this back to Sirius?" Hedwig pecked affectionately at his finger, then let him tie the note back to her leg. "Come and see me later." He ruffled the owl's feathers. She stretched her wings and flew silently from the room. 

He strode to the window and watched as Hedwig flew into the air and disappeared over the trees. Well, if nothing else, at least that had finally proved to him Hedwig was, indeed, an Animagus.

He walked back to the door and opened it. "It's okay, love, the owl's gone."

********************

It was early evening when Sirius apparated into the garden of the lighthouse. The sun was already low in the sky and there was a slight chill to the air. It had been three years since he had last been here.

Back then, he had been searching for his godson and had found him sitting out on the cliff. The boy had been completely unaware of Sirius' presence and Sirius had left, distraught, wondering what had taken place in the crystal cave to affect Harry so very deeply.

It was painful to be back here for other reasons too. The location reminded him of Godric's Hollow, the last place he had seen James and Lily Potter alive. Did Harry realise he had chosen somewhere very similar to his parents' secret place where they had hoped to remain hidden from Voldemort? He wondered how his friends must feel now, to know two decades later that their son was still struggling against their murderer.

He shivered despite his robes and set about finding his godson. He found him out on the cliff; in almost the same place Harry had been those three years previous.

"Harry."

The young man turned and waved, but didn't get up. Sirius dropped down to the grass beside him and took Harry in a hug. They sat there, in silence for several minutes. Finally Sirius pulled away.

"Sorry, I should have been waiting at the house. I just get drawn out here sometimes."

Sirius made himself comfortable. "Hedwig told me where you were." As if she had been waiting for Sirius to mention her, the owl swooped out of the sky and landed beside Harry's knee, where she settled comfortably. 

Harry stretched out a hand and Hedwig gave it a gentle nip. Did Sirius, an Animagus himself, know of the owl's other identity? For the first time he wondered what the woman's real name was. He had given the owl the name 'Hedwig', but she must have a proper name. Sirius' Animagus creature was a dog called Padfoot, while his father James used to transform in to a stag known as Prongs.

"What's it like, Sirius, being an Animagus?"

Sirius looked surprised at the question. He thought for moment, listening to the sound of the sea on the cliffs below. "I don't know. I've been one for over half my life and I don't remember what it's like not to be one. Back at the beginning, when we first found out about Remus being a werewolf, I can remember how hard the magic was. Especially as we were all learning it from books and without a teacher." He smiled at the memory. "I was all for going straight into it, but your dad was a bit more sensible fortunately. He realised we needed to know how to transform back and insisted each of us knew the counter-spells so that if we made a mistake or couldn't transform someone else could change us."

"But what's it like actually being Padfoot?"

The smile grew. "Freedom, heightened awareness, speed, lots of things. But it's not the same now. Not without the others. James and Peter and Remus. Because of Severus' potions, Remus doesn't have to go through the Change each full moon, so I don't even have the excuse of being with him any more." Sirius no longer smiled, but looked thoughtful as he stared into the distance. "Sometimes I miss that companionship. It was very special."

"When you're Padfoot, do you remember things as if you were human?"

"Mmm," Sirius nodded. "Yes. That's what is different between transfiguring into an animal and being an Animagus. If I were transfigured into a dog, I wouldn't have any human awareness. But if I were Padfoot now, I'd hear what you were saying and be aware of what's going on. Of course, I couldn't talk to you, because I'd be a dog, but I'd be able to think things through as if I were human even in that form."

"Did you ever feel trapped?"

"No, because when I'm a dog, I'm just that. My human body isn't even in my thoughts. As Padfoot, I just 'am'."

Harry looked down at Hedwig and could have sworn the owl was smiling. Ever since the party he had been wondering how much Hedwig, the woman, remembered of her life as Hedwig, the owl. She had spent seven years of her life living with Harry either at Hogwarts or at Privet Drive, sharing his room, watching him grow up. Suddenly he felt very embarrassed at the thought of this beautiful woman being with him while he ... well, did boy things.

He looked away from the owl, feeling colour rising in his face. "Did you..." His voice broke. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Would you know if someone was an Animagus?"

Sirius smiled knowingly. "Sometimes." He looked at Hedwig. "Come on, put the boy out of his misery."

By the time Harry looked from Sirius back to where the owl had been sitting, the woman was there. She was in the same white robes she had worn earlier, but now her hair hung in braids down her back. Her right hand rested lightly on Harry's right leg, just above his knee.

Harry swallowed and glanced sideways at his godfather. "You knew? For how long?"

"Oh, at least seven years. After I escaped from Azkaban and went on the run. You started sending me messages, remember."

"I was at Hogwarts with him," Hedwig joined in. "But clearly didn't make much of an impression." She smiled at Sirius. "I've been an Animagus all my life, Harry, even before Hogwarts. Of course, I didn't realise what was happening when I was a child and can remember thinking it was all a dream. It didn't help that my family were Muggles either. When I got to school, I found out that there were other people who could transform, but I could do it without spells or a wand. I decided not to tell anyone, not even the Marauders who I knew were all illegal Animagi."

Sirius was frowning; clearly this story was new to him. "You've never told me this before."

"All women need their little secrets, Sirius. Where would the fun be if I told you everything at once?" She turned back to Harry. "Don't ask me how, I knew Sirius didn't betray your parents. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do to help him ... to prove his innocence." Her hand left Harry's leg and she pushed a lock of hair from her face. "I was ... ill ... for a long time after Lily and James died and when I was well enough to return to life again, Sirius was in Azkaban and you were living with Petunia and Vernon. Professor Dumbledore needed to keep you safe you see, so he used a _Cognatus_ charm. It works a little like the _Fidelius_, but in this case, if you are with a blood relative then your enemies just wouldn't be able to find you. That was why he sent you to Petunia's. I'm sorry your life was so miserable with them."

Harry found himself shrugging. "It's okay. I didn't know any different, so I guess I just got on with it. But how do you know so much about my parents and what happened to me? Did you know them at school?"

"Oh, I think everyone knew James."

"Too right," Sirius interjected. "James was Quidditch captain and Head boy. Everyone either wanted to be his friend or to shag him." 

"Sirius!" Hedwig looked shocked and cuffed his arm with her hand. "Behave."

"It's true. But it was Lily who finally got him."

Harry enjoyed the banter. People never seemed to want to talk about his parents when he was at school. It was almost as if they thought he might get upset. So to hear these few titbits now was wonderful. He bent his legs and hugged his knees, "Why did you decide to keep an eye on me?"

"Well, it just happened I guess. After I'd been ill, I realised I had the chance to make amends for what had happened to Lily and James. I would occasionally come over to Privet Drive to check up on you, and managed to help Sirius in prison."

"Not that I was in any fit state to appreciate those visits." 

"Then you finally got your letter about Hogwarts and I found out Hagrid was taking you to Diagon Alley. I was able to influence him into buying you an owl."

"But I chose you." 

"No one ever chooses their own pet, Harry. Like your wand, the pet chooses you. The same way Crookshanks picked Hermione."

"Did Professor Dumbledore know about you being an Animagus?"

"Oh, I expect so. Though he never spoke to me about it even when I was back at school. I'm not registered, you see, so I could have gotten into trouble if he had. I just wanted to help make things easier for you. Such as making sure your friends didn't forget your birthday when you were with those dreadful people. That awful summer when Vernon locked me in the cage wasn't much fun, believe me." She shifted forward and sat between the two men.

"What is your real name?"

"Hedwig is fine."

"But there must be another. I gave you that one."

"Did you? Are you sure?" Golden and green eyes locked for a moment, leaving Harry feeling warm and safe. The feeling remained as Hedwig looked away to Sirius. "We should get down to business. Time is running out."

"Yes," Sirius nodded and wondered whether to tell Harry what had taken place in Lucius' office. He decided not to. The boy already had enough to worry about. "I heard from Hermione this morning about the binding curses."

"Has she managed to narrow things down?" Harry noted that Sirius was looking stern.

"Yes." He retrieved a parchment from within his robes and handed it to Harry. "But I don't approve of her methods. She went to the Malfoy estate with Neville Longbottom."

"No! What on earth was she thinking of? I asked Neville to go, but I didn't think Hermione would go with him."

"You asked Neville?" Sirius looked skyward wondering how he ever managed to cope with all these children. "If I'd know, I would have stopped both of them, believe me. Fortunately they were sensible enough not to try and get onto estate land. According to Hermione's instructions, the counter-curse will only work from inside the grounds. We need to get the instructions to Draco so he can remove the spells himself."

Harry unrolled the parchment and glanced down at the neat handwriting. He was reminded of the book Hermione had given him for his birthday and realised he hadn't looked at it since. "I'll take it."

Sirius started to speak, but Hedwig held up a hand. "Harry, you can't. You know that." 

Harry paused in thought for a moment. "Look, I know you haven't got any time for Draco, but I need to tell you something. Do you remember when Snape was betrayed and we went into the Slytherin School to get him out?" Sirius nodded. "I've never told anyone, but Draco saved my life. I owe him a life debt."

"Don't be silly." Sirius looked angry.

"It's not silly. Professor Dumbledore once told me that if another wizard saves your life, a bond is created by deep magic. You know I'm telling the truth."

"Why didn't you ever tell anyone about this before?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. At the time it was between Draco and myself. I didn't want anyone to know. Then, I forgot all about it until Ron's connection thing. This is why I have to get Draco out and why I am going to get this to him." He waved the parchment. 

Sirius wanted to argue the point, but knew he couldn't. Life debts were not something wizards took lightly and it put a whole new perspective on things. If Harry really was telling the truth, and he had no reason to doubt him, then it made the current state of affairs even graver.

Hedwig saw the look on Sirius' face and then turned to Harry. She raised a hand to his face. "If you go to the estate, Lucius Malfoy will never let you leave. I will take the note for you."

"That's too dangerous," Harry protested.

"The Malfoy traps will not work against an owl."

Harry looked at Sirius who, though still angry at Harry's latest revelation, was nodding in agreement. The two had obviously already discussed what would happen. "I would go, but as Padfoot, but I would have to cross estate grounds - not a good idea."

"Draco doesn't have a wand. I don't think he can do this without one."

"He could use your wand," Sirius suggested. "I know it's a very special wand, Harry, and it will be able to help him with the spell casting."

Harry held out his hand and the wand appeared in it. "I was going to talk to you about it. It does things I don't understand. I'm not sure it will go with someone else."

"It will if you tell it to."

Harry looked down at the Holly stick. It vibrated gently in his hand and he considered for a moment whether he really could communicate with it by thought alone. "Okay, take it to him." Instantly, the wand left his fingers and Hedwig caught it in her free hand. For a second Harry felt naked without it, it had been his constant companion since Snape had given it back to him. "I should write Draco a note, explain what's happening."

Sirius got to his feet. The sun had almost set now, and a red wash touched the clouds. "Why don't we go in?" He held out a hand to Hedwig who took it and came gracefully to her feet.

The trio set off towards the lighthouse. Hedwig walked between the two men, her arms around their waists. Sirius looked down at her and slid his own arm across her shoulders. She had become very special to him - this woman who had always been there at his darkest moments. But now he realised he knew nothing about her or her past. How could he not remember her from Hogwarts? As they walked, Sirius wondered, not for the first time, just what powers Hedwig actually possessed. 

********************

**_Sunday 16th September 2001_**

The snowy owl flew in high over the Malfoy estate. Once over the manor buildings, she glided in big lazy circles, wings outstretched, towards the ground. The second-floor window was open and she swooped into the darkened room, fluttering down to a table. With her night vision, she could make out the figure slumped in a chair, a book still open on his lap. She dropped the small package she was carrying and hopped to the floor where she transformed into her human form. 

"_Lumos_," Hedwig pointed Harry's wand at a lamp. It sprang to life, emitted a soft glow, which illuminated the chair where Draco Malfoy slept. He stirred briefly, the book slipping to the floor with a soft thud. He grabbed absently for the book, but didn't awaken. 

Dressed now in dark grey robes, which blended with the room's shadows, Hedwig held the wand before her and systematically searched the room. She was looking for any charms and spells that might tell people there was a visitor in Draco's room. The room bristled with protection and other more sinister magic and she tutted at the amount. The Malfoys gave new meaning to the word 'overkill'. Unsure whether removing the spells might set off alarms elsewhere in the manor, Hedwig instead pushed them carefully back to the walls, creating a safe circle in the room where the spells would not detect her.

Satisfied with her precautions, she turned her attention back to Draco and held the wand over his sleeping form. It almost glowed as it picked up the mesh of spells winding themselves in and around the boy. Some of the magic was as old as Draco, other spells very new. Did he know he was so entangled with both ordinary and dark magic? She wondered what he would be like if they were removed, thus taking away his safety net to the Malfoy power. 

A breath caught in her throat as she found the most recent spell, only a couple of days old. It was so new she could still feel the thoughts of the caster. Voldemort. She remembered his aura and the taint that he left on anyone he touched. Remembered how it felt when his curse had touched her all those years ago. 

Draco had been telling the truth, the Dark Lord was back.

But what was this latest spell? At first she thought it was an _Imperius_ curse, but it was different. Deeper, linked with some of the older spells hidden in Draco's subconscious. Had the boy ever had a thought that was his own she wondered. Or were all his ideas and ideals marked by his family's attempts at moulding him in to the image they had wanted?

And now Voldemort was using him, just as Draco had been used by almost everyone in his past. But this latest spell was twisting the boy's fears away from his true tormentor and focusing them in a different direction, at someone else. At Harry.

Twiddling the wand in her hand, she walked slowly behind the chair, looking down at the blond head. To remove the spells without permission was not seen as politically correct these days. One should discuss such things, have years of therapy and then remove them one by one with even more therapy. Or so the 'experts' said.

But, what the hell! She knew it was impossible even with her magical abilities to remove all the spells, but she could get rid of as many as possible. It was a shame she couldn't remove the _Speculumous_ curse, but that was just too deeply entrenched for a simple incantation to deal with. As for removing the other spells, it wouldn't change him, but it would give him the chance to know his own mind. 

After a moment's hesitation, she touched the wand to the top of Draco's head and whispered "_Finite Incantatem Totalus._" 

A gentle ribbon of light appeared from the end of the wand and slowly spiralled its way down and through Draco's body, its touch soft like a feather. It enveloped him from head-to-toe and suddenly any gentleness dissipated. It tightened, grabbed at the spells and yanked them forcibly from his body.

Draco gasped; suddenly wide-awake and sat bolt upright. "What the..." He fought to catch his breath as he felt like he was being dragged up from some dark, deep place. Eyes wide, he tried to locate the cause of the shock that was currently flooding his body.

"Hello, Draco."

The soft voice came from behind him. He shot from the chair and staggered back, determined to put the table between himself and the voice. It wasn't ... couldn't be ... Voldemort. Couldn't be his mother. And why did he feel like he'd been ripped apart and put back together again? He thought he recalled something similar happening in the past, but the memory was all hazy, all grey.

A woman was standing behind the chair he had fallen asleep on. She leaned on the high back and watched him through eyes that almost glowed in the dim light. Her white hair, which almost matched his colour, cascaded down her back and over the chair.

"Who are you?" he whispered, his voice almost non-existent.

Hedwig smiled, a little surprised that his reaction to her smile seemed to be almost one of panic. "Harry sent me."

"What?"

"Harry? Harry Potter. You know, green eyes, scar, enemy of Voldemort."

"Shh..." Draco waved his hands. "If he hears you..."

"He won't." She waved the wand and a few red and gold sparks fluttered from it. "I've created a safe circle here."

"I..." He blinked, suddenly confused because he felt different. His body tingled as though he'd been given a mild electric shock. He looked down at his hands, turning them over. "What have you done to me?"

"Nothing" Hedwig shrugged innocently. "Well not much anyway."

"Liar." Draco hissed as he leaned forward on the table. "I can feel it. Has Potter sent you to kill me?"

"You certainly are a mixed up kid, Draco. Why would Harry want you dead?"

"We're enemies. We've always been enemies ever since..." He clenched his teeth for a moment. "It would solve things for him wouldn't it. Get me out of the way then he can get at Lord Voldemort. I won't let you do that."

"You asked for his help and Harry promised he would get you out of here."

A look of confusion crossed Draco's face. "I asked?" He didn't remember even talking to Harry. He wasn't aware that Voldemort's last spell, cast when the Dark Lord had touched the scar on his neck, had not only taken away the pain, but had also removed all memories of torture, curses and his contact with Harry. "I haven't..." Hedwig's spell washed over him again and an image condensed in is mind. A golden cloud. Harry sitting next to him. His voice: _I will get you out of here. I promise_. 

Draco looked at the woman again, this time pleading in his eyes. "What have you done to me?"

"I've removed some of the spells which have been used to bind you. You are thinking for yourself for the first time in many years."

"That is ridiculous."

"No, it isn't. Why do you think you feel different? You can sense the change in your consciousness."

"How do I know you haven't cursed me?"

"What good would that do me? If you choose to remain here, then I won't force you to leave." She smiled sweetly, but her tone was darker now. "Of course, that doesn't mean I couldn't force you if I wanted to. Draco, what are you feeling? Right now?"

He watched for a moment, grey eyes intense. Finally he spoke. "Confused."

Hedwig came out from behind the chair and crossed to the table. "Clear thoughts will do that. And yours are clearer now than they have ever been. Others have bound you for so long, forced you to do their bidding and to think it is your own choice. You have forgotten what it is like to be free. Voldemort is using you as he has used everyone he has ever touched."

"No he isn't"

"Then you are a fool." Her voice changed from the soft tone she always spoke to Harry in. It became hard, commanding. "Think, Draco. What has he been doing to you since you found out who he is?"

"Nothing. He cares for me. He wants me to stand with him, at his side. I will not let you hurt him and I will not let your lies take me from my true path. Now, get out of here, or so help me..."

She pointed the wand at his heart. "Or you'll do what?"

Draco turned and headed for the door. "I gave you a choice."

Hedwig moved the wand so that it pointed in front of him. "_Obstructus_." A field of sparkling stars barred his way. "You will listen to me."

He stood by the barrier and glanced back over his shoulder. "I will not betray him."

"Oh?" Hedwig slowly crossed to his side. "Draco, he has been torturing you and Harry for weeks. He's hidden the pain and memories of it from you by his spells, but you still bear the physical wounds." She tugged at his shirt, pulling it from the waistband of his trousers. "Look." Around his ribs was the bruising from his recent beating, the marks had begun to turn yellow now, but were still very visible. "How do you think you got these?"

There was a long pause. "I fell down the stairs."

She dragged the shirt off his shoulder, exposing the long red lacerations made by Voldemort's cane. "And I guess these are from the stairs too."

"I ... don't remember."

"He did this to you. Voldemort." She held out the wand to him. "Take it." He looked shocked. "TAKE IT."

Hesitant, Draco reached for the wand, fingers closing round the shaft. Hedwig didn't let go and he felt the power cascade up his arm and into his body. It washed through him, squeezing through Voldemort's blocks, breaking down barriers and opening wounds that he had forgotten. The memory of the beating returned in full, vivid detail, quickly followed by the other horrors that had been inflicted since his birthday.

Hedwig released the wand as Draco slumped to the floor, his head in his hands. "All I ever wanted to do was have an ordinary life. Why couldn't you all have just left me alone?"

"Do you remember?" Hedwig crouched beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He nodded beneath her touch. "He will kill you if you stay."

"No, it's Potter he wants, not me. I'm just the catalyst for all this. When it's over, I walk free."

"No one is ever free from Voldemort's evil. If he doesn't kill you now, he will find an excuse later. Or perhaps when your father's body is no longer of any use, he will take yours in its place."

"I can't do this anymore. I don't know who to believe."

"Then trust the only person you can. Trust yourself. You know what is true for you. Harry told me about your conversations on the cloud. He sent me to help you get away from here. Together you and he can get through this, but apart neither of you will survive."

Draco let out a shuddering breath and leaned forward against his raised knees. "Everything I have ever believed in is a lie isn't it. All my life I've been used. First by my father, now Voldemort. Even Potter."

She gently stroked his hair, holding him in a soothing embrace against her shoulder. "No, not Harry. He doesn't use people. He needs your help as much as you need his. Will you let me help you to get out of here?" She felt him nod against her. "Then we need to get started. I have the counter-curses to remove the binding spells and you need to learn them. You have to be off the estate before sunrise or they won't work." She pushed him to arm's length. "Now, come on. Get up." 

He allowed the woman to pull him to his feet and followed her back to the table. She turned her back on him and for a moment he looked down at the wand in his hand. A tiny voice deep in his mind goaded him to hex her, to remember where his true loyalties lie. He shuddered slightly and quickly placed the wand on the table.

********************

An hour before sunrise, Lucius Malfoy stood beside his bedroom window and watched the dark figure sprint across the formal gardens. Beside him, the white shape of an owl kept pace.

Voldemort smiled to himself as Draco climbed over the low wall and hitched his small backpack across his shoulders. The wand in the boy's hand gave of a faint light and for a moment he could see Draco's features.

"Go on boy, find your way to freedom." He mused as he folded his arms and leaned against the open window. "Go and find me Harry Potter and bring him back to me."

The owl swooped down and landed on Draco's arm. Voldemort knew who it was.

"And you won't get away from me either. Not this time."

--------------------

**Next chapter: **Wait and see!

The quotes at the beginning of the chapter are taken from the four Harry Potter books by JK Rowling.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, including: Nikalee, Snow Lily, Allie, Krissie, Thieving Magpie, Britz, Mim, Mouse, Valerierohda, Leandra. KobeG, AVK/Anastasia, Circe713, apassov2001, Shannon The newbie, aly, NayiaPotter.

And to answer a few of your questions (my comments are in italic): 

Anne P: Thank you so much for your comments on photographs, which reads as follows: Have you ever wondered why a vampire can be CAT scanned but not X-rayed or photographed? It's related to mirrors, which won't reflect vampires, and has as much to do with the nature of mirrors as the nature of vampires. Mirrors are glass -- backed with silver. Camera film is also based on silver. So, film should react in interesting ways if a wizard uses it...no?. 

_Very interesting and certainly something I hadn't considered. However Harry uses a digital camera - therefore no film. It all has to do with energy._

Krissie: I really want to know what happens when Emily meets Hedwig and Harry tells her he's a wizard

_He will tell her, eventually!_

Thieving Magpie: I even got used to the "Malfoy is a good boy thing"

_Draco a good boy? Well, we'll see._

Mim: I'm glad Ron handled it well when he found out it was Draco. 

_Hmmmm. We'll see how Ron handles things._

Leandra: Can Dumbledore be released? Will Hermione go back to Harry? Or at least hit on him again or something? And what about Emily?

_If I answered these questions, half my plot would be given away!_

KobeG: And Draco knows that his mother played a role in putting the curse on him and probably knows how it works. I hope they can rescue him and Ron does not accidentally kill him.

_Narcissa is not a nice person! And if Ron does anything, it is never accidentally! _

Any reviews, are more than welcome, either on-line or at the above email. Your comments are an integral part of the writing process. Or feel free to post your comments at the Yahoo group for this story. All up and coming chapters will be posted there first. Click HERE to sign up for http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HP_comingofage. 


	8. Flashback: The Trap

**Title: Coming of Age: Chapter 8 - Flashback: The Trap (8/?)**

**Author name:** Frances Potter

**Author email:** frances@forever.u-net.com

**Category:** Just about everything: Angst/Darkfic, Mystery, a little Action/Adventure, some Romance.

**Keywords:** Snape (lots of Severus), Harry, Draco, Lucius, Narcissa, and Voldemort.

**Spoilers:** All books

**Rating:** PG-13 (UK rating 12). (Non-explicit adult themes, some bad language, mental distress, violence)

**Summary: **Harry Potter thinks he has finally defeated Voldemort. But the battle has taken its toll and he decides to leave the Wizarding world for good. Three years later, the Dark Lord has a 21st birthday present for the Boy Who Lived, and it involves Draco Malfoy. Can the two overcome their past differences and work together before Voldemort destroys them both?

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author's Note:** Thanks are at the end. Please remember to read. 

The chapters just keep getting longer and longer. Sorry! 

**Note to readers on FanFiction.net:** I have been having problems posting on this site. I will continue trying to post, but this might be the last chapter I post there. However, you can keep up-to-date at either:

http://www.schnoogle.com/authorLinks/Frances_Potter/Coming_Of_Age/ 

Or at the Yahoo group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HP_comingofage/ 

**What you need to know... **

Harry thinks he has destroyed Voldemort. Now aged 21, he is a well-known photographer, living as a Muggle with girlfriend Emily (who doesn't know he is a wizard or saviour of the known universe). Lucius Malfoy is the Minister of Magic and Sirius Black is the Deputy Minister. Voldemort isn't destroyed; he's taken over Lucius Malfoy's body. Voldemort wants to get rid Harry by finishing off what he started 20 years before at Godric's Hollow when he destroyed Lily and James. He links Draco and Harry with a _Speculumous_ curse, a mirroring spell that means Harry feels any curse Voldemort uses on Draco. 

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Coming of Age Chapter Eight - Flashback: The Trap 

**_Sunday 16th September 2001 _**

The lounge was almost in darkness, the only illumination a candle spluttering on the coffee table as it neared the end of its life. Harry lay on the settee, a pile of proof prints scattered about him. He was supposed to be sorting out a portfolio for a client, but his head was throbbing and hurt too much to concentrate. Worse, for the first time in years, his scar actually hurt. The lightning bolt shape stood out in red relief against his pale skin and it felt tender to the touch, as if it were a new injury. He wanted to call someone for help, but Ron and Hermione weren't on the phone, he had no idea where Sirius was and Emily wasn't answering her mobile. She should be home soon. He HOPED she would be home soon.

He pushed the prints onto the floor, took off his glasses, and with an audible groan buried his head into a cushion. If only he could get some sleep, maybe then everything would be okay. Maybe, just maybe he would wake up and find it was all a dream. That no one from the Wizarding world had contacted him. That Voldemort and everything connected with him no longer existed. That he had his Muggle life back and he was free.

Harry wasn't sure if he had actually fallen asleep, but the next thing he was aware of was a voice saying his name and a touch on his shoulder. He jolted awake and away, a hand automatically rising protectively before him. (Later, he would be shocked to remember that the curse on his lips at that moment had been _Crucio_.)

A black shape, darker than the surrounding gloom, moved away. "Potter, I am unarmed."

The voice was familiar and Harry, now kneeling on the settee, whispered, "_Lumos_." The overhead light burst into life and he squinted against the sudden brightness; it hurt his eyes and set off the throbbing in temples again. The figure came into blurred focus. "Professor Snape?" Harry crooked, his mouth dry. Still kneeling, he scrabbled for his glasses.

The professor pointed his own wand at the light and it dimmed to a more acceptable brightness. "I apologise for alarming you."

Harry blinked, pushing the ball of his hand hard against his forehead, trying to clear his mind. "What... How did you...?" He struggled unsteadily to his feet.

Snape was at Harry's side and he reached out a hand out to the boy, making him sit back down. "I am here because your godfather asked. I found you by the location spells Miss Granger has been using to keep track of you for some time. She is something of an expert in that form of magic. People are concerned for your welfare." Snape looked at the pale face and the lack of life in the emerald eyes. "I see what they mean."

"I'm just tired." Harry pushed up his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. After a moment, the hand went to his forehead again, rubbing absently at his scar. His temple felt hot, sticky with perspiration. "Location spells? You've been keeping track of me?" 

Snape ignored his questions and reached into a pocket in his robes, pulling out a small bag. He took several bottles from the bag and placed them on the coffee table. "I have been asked to make something to help." He crossed to a closed door and opened it. The adjoining room was the kitchen. A light flickered on and he made his way to the sink and returned with a glass of water. "When did you last eat?"

"Umm." Harry thought. "Probably this morning. How long have you been tracking me?"

"Here." Snape broke a chunk of chocolate from a bar also taken from the bag.

"I've got a migraine. That will make it worse."

"You are a wizard. It will make it better." He almost forced the chunk into Harry's mouth.

Harry let the chocolate dissolve and hated to admit that Snape might just be right. The professor was sitting opposite him now, busying himself with the bottles. He watched the older man for a few moments before closing his eyes, trying to remember what he knew about location magic.

"I have been researching the potion you were given by Malfoy," Snape didn't look at Harry as he talked. "This is not an antidote. I have been unable to find one."

"Thanks. I really needed to know that." Harry kept his eyes shut, wondering whether he would ever get his life back again. He waited for a sarcastic retort from the Potions Master. It didn't come.

"This mixture will help lessen the effect of any contact you have with the trigger. You should find it less invasive." Snape pushed the glass of water and a small vial of potion mix toward Harry. "And it will help with your sleep."

Harry opened his eyes again and looked at the vial; unsure he would ever trust a potion not made by his own hands again. "Sleeping isn't the problem. It's waking up from the nightmares." He met Snape's black eyes, a little confused by the man's amicable demeanour. "Did you need to bring this personally?"

"I wanted to make sure the potion was taken correctly." Snape leaded back against the cream chair, his black and purple robes spread about him. "It needs to be mixed shortly before taking it. You will need to take a dose tonight and a further one in the morning. That should last about a week."

Harry picked up the vial and sniffed it suspiciously. Then he swallowed it in one go. It tasted of aniseed and left a feeling of comfortable warmth down his throat and into his stomach. Snape gestured at the water and Harry took several sips. He waited, but felt no different. "It isn't working. I don't feel tired at all." He paused thoughtfully. "The headache's going thought."

"That is the chocolate." Snape's voice was tinged with annoyance. "If you had eaten, you would be fine now. The potion isn't a sleeping draft. It is not supposed to make you sleep, it helps make sleeping easier and promotes a dreamless sleep."

"And there's a difference?"

"One obviously too subtle for you to comprehend. Finish the chocolate." He pushed the bar across the table and began collecting the bottles. "I will return in the morning with the second dose. Will you still be here?"

"I'm not planning on going anywhere." Harry scrambled forward. Suddenly he didn't want to be on his own. "Umm, Professor."

"Yes?" Snape continued to pack.

Harry struggled for words. Snape was the last person he would normally want to spend quality time with. And he'd never asked the man for a favour in his life. "Will you stay for a while? I ... I could do with some company."

Snape looked up. What was that expression on Harry's tired face? Did he look scared? Well, he should be, he was lucky to still be alive. Sirius and the others didn't seem to be taking the curse as seriously as they should. If they cared for Harry at all then they would have found a safe place for him, probably under the protection of a _Fidelius_ charm. And if Harry was as important as they all claimed, he certainly shouldn't be out here alone even with the ward spells Weasley had erected around the building. It angered Snape that it should be he who was babysitting Potter. He didn't like the boy and had never made any pretence of doing so. "Very well," he finally said. "I have some free time."

The two sat in awkward silence for some time before Snape finally came to his feet. "I will make some tea."

Harry realised he was neglecting his duties and started to stand. "I can do that." He was pushed back to the seat.

"You will remain there. I have no intention of picking you up if you collapse."

In the kitchen, Snape stood quietly, watching the second hand on the clock move slowly around the dial. He gave Potter three minutes before he would be asleep. He made a single cup of tea and sipped at it as he walked quietly back into the lounge.

Harry was still sitting, but he had toppled to one side uncomfortably and was now sound asleep. Placing his cup on the table, Snape carefully lifted the boy and laid him out on the settee. He removed his glasses and placed a cushion under his head. The sleeping figure curled up a little and settled with a sigh.

Snape watched him for a moment and returned to collecting his bottles. Then picking up his cloak, he made to leave. He got to the door before remembering the look on Harry's face as he had asked him to stay. What was it about Potter that made everyone stop what he or she was doing! He knew he couldn't leave Harry alone even though he was asleep and wouldn't be aware of him being there.

Angry at himself for letting the boy get to him, Snape returned to the settee and laid his cloak over Harry. Then with an audible sigh, he sat back down and picked up his cup.

He thought back to his conversation earlier with Sirius when the subject of the life debt Harry felt he had with Draco had come up. Was that why he was here now? Because Harry Potter had once saved his life? He'd always had misgivings about what constituted a life debt. Did the act of saving a life count? Or was it the act of sparing the life of one's enemy that formed the debt?

Whatever, Snape knew his life had changed on the day he had been dragged barely alive from Voldemort's prison.

********************

**Summer 1995**

"_Severus," said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, "you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready... if you are prepared..."_

_"I am," said Snape._

_He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely._

_"Then, good luck," said Dumbledore, and he watched, with a trace of apprehension on his face, as Snape swept wordlessly after Sirius._

(Goblet of Fire)

********************

"So, you've finally decided to answer the Call."

Severus Snape looked at Lucius Malfoy and smiled. "Did you ever think I wouldn't? Or should that be did you HOPE I wouldn't?" The two watched each other for a moment before Severus spoke again. "I want to see him."

Now it was Malfoy's turn to smile. "What make you think he would want to see you?" The sneer in his voice was obvious.

"Because, Lucius, I am his Potions Master and he will need me to help stabilise his return." He held up a small bottle, which Malfoy grabbed at. It was snatched away. "No, not this time. This is one thing you will not get your hands on. I've had enough of you stealing my work in the past." The bottle disappeared. "Now, you tell him I'm here."

An hour later Severus found himself in a darkened room somewhere deep within Malfoy Manor. He stood for a moment beside the now closed door, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Then, several feet away, the glow of a wand light split the blackness.

"Severus." The voice hissed like a snake. A hand moved in the wand light, beckoning him forward.

He had only taken three steps when the curse hit. It's crippling pain sent him sprawling to the flagstone floor, his body contorted with pain.

"Come to me."

The voice whispered through his pain and Severus somehow found the strength to haul himself across the rough surface, which scrapped and cut into his fingers. Somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, a voice told him not to be beaten - to fight the pain and cross the floor. He made the final few paces on his stomach, dragging himself by his fingertips. He collapsed, breathless, beside the carved chair. 

As suddenly as the pain had begun, it was over and relief washed through him like a summer shower. He lay still for a moment, trying to gulp for air through the hurt. His chest felt like it had been crushed and each breath sent a spasm of fire through the muscles of his rib cage. Finally, he managed to come to his knees.

The hand was before his face, and he tentatively took hold of it, noting that there was blood on his own fingers. Severus kissed the fingers, the scaly texture of the skin rough on his lips.

"Master," he finally managed to croak, his throat so dry he could hardly talk.

The hand pulled free, wiping the blood from Severus' fingers on to the kneeling man's robes. "Your arm, show me."

Severus carefully raised his left arm and pulled back his sleeve to reveal his forearm. A few inches from the fold of his elbow, a shadowy smudge marred the skin. He offered his arm up and the fingers closed round it, enclosing the smudge under their long bony digits. Severus bit back a cry, as fire seemed to flare beneath the hand, branding the image of a skull with a serpent coming from its mouth onto his skin again. He didn't move, however, accepting the pain with stoic resignation.

The fingers finally pulled away and Severus looked down at his forearm. What had been a smudge was now a vivid black image against inflamed red skin.

"Clearly the previous mark was no longer effective or you would have answered my Call."

Swallowing, Severus tried to get his throat to work. "Master. To have answered would have alerted Dumbledore to my true allegiance. I need to have him believe I am no longer one of your obedient followers." He bowed his head in penitence. "I am sorry if I acted foolishly."

"You are lucky I am feeling magnanimous today. But disobey me again and I might not show such compassion."

"Thank you, Master."

"Now, tell me about Dumbledore and the boy."

********************

The Great Hall slowly cleared of students as the end-of-term feast came to a sad end. Dumbledore's words had stunned most people, including the teachers who were not part of the headmaster's inner circle. Voldemort was back. He had killed Cedric Diggery. He would cause discord between everyone.

Severus watched his students, noting different reactions. Some of the Slytherins seemed overjoyed, while those from other houses were shocked into silence or even crying. He wondered how many would come back for the new year in September.

He had caught Draco Malfoy's eye during Dumbledore's speech and the boy had grinned back. It was painful to think he wasn't even 15 yet and the Dark Lord had marked his family for 'special attention'. Did the boy know his parents had Voldemort as a houseguest?

And then there was Harry Potter who just sat looking tired and poignant. There were, no doubt, people in the hall who thought Harry had killed Diggery to win the Triwizard Tournament, but he seemed to be facing any hostility well. Harry was the only one who knew the whole truth about what had happened and Severus couldn't help but wonder if the boy knew more then he had told.

Finally there was only he and Dumbledore left in the hall. Severus got to his feet and moved to sit beside the old wizard. "Headmaster." 

"Severus. I am sorry we haven't been able to met before now. How are you getting on?"

"He is back, Albus. I have seen him. Spoken to him. But he is still weak. I had thought about trying to destroy him, but Malfoy has erected all sorts of spells about him. Dark magic beyond anything I know how to breach."

"Have many seen him?"

"No," Severus shook his head. "Malfoy seems to be his eyes, ears and mouth. He passes on instructions to the Death Eaters and other followers. I have a privileged position because of my potions. So far all I have given him are harmless tonics. But..." he paused.

"But you feel you will soon need to give him something that will really help."

With a nod, Severus reached for a jug of pumpkin juice and filled a glass. "If Voldemort sees no improvement, then he will find himself someone else."

"Then do as you must. But remember to take it slowly. We need all the time you can buy us." Glancing quickly round the hall, Dumbledore pulled out a small sheet of parchment. "This is in case you are asked for information to prove yourself. You will only have one chance to read it all."

Severus put down his glass and unrolled the scroll. It was written in a hand he didn't recognise and contained odd titbits of information about the school and about people who might be of interest the Dark Lord.

"Most of the people don't exist, but we have managed to get their names into the public records." Dumbledore chuckled. "All very cloak and dagger don't you think."

Trying not to glare, Severus carefully memorised the sheet and watched as it crumbled to dust on his palm. He blew the dust away. "I am concerned about Draco Malfoy."

"Yes, he seems to think this is all very funny."

"And will be spending the summer in the same building as the Dark Lord. We both know how much his father has already taught the boy, how steeped he already is in the dark arts. I am concerned Lucius might decide to have him marked now."

"It would be unprecedented for someone so young to be given a Dark Mark."

"Things are different this time, Albus. Voldemort is writing new rules even as we sit here talking."

********************

**_Now_**

Snape looked down at his cup and realised the tea was cold. He put the cup down on the table and ran a weary hand across his forehead. It didn't do to dwell on the past. It just made a person melancholy and that wasn't an emotion he needed at the moment. But it was hard not to.

The year after Voldemort's return hadn't been an easy one for him. He had to be the loyal follower of the Dark Lord while remaining the caustic Potions Master at Hogwarts. Sometimes he wondered whether he was really a double agent, serving both sides. He had done things he wasn't proud of in that year to stay alive.

Most students returned that September 1995, but for the first time in nearly 200 years, there was no new intake of first years. The Board of Governors, lead by Lucius Malfoy decided it was not prudent given the climate of fear evident in some people. Instead the students went to European schools and to a new school set up in England. At the time no one really gave the new school much thought, but it would eventually lead to the demise of Hogwarts.

Snape got to his feet and checked on Harry. He slept deeply, the potion clearly doing its job. For once Snape was not concerned about having lied about the true nature of what he had given the boy. No doubt if Potter had known it was a sleeping draught, he would have struggled for hours to stop it taking effect. At least in this way he would awake completely rested. It would also help with his contact with Draco and a second dose would enhance its effects. 

Picking up his cup, Snape continued through to the kitchen and emptied it down the sink. Outside it was dark now and he could just make out the swaying branches of the trees against the night sky. 

A sudden clunk-clunk noise made him spin towards the door, wand in his hand. He quickly pocketed it again as he saw a big black cat appear through a cat-flap. Thomas stood there for a moment, watching the stranger in his domain, as if trying to decide whether he liked him or not. Then, with a flick of his big black tail, Thomas padded silently through to the lounge and jumped up onto the settee beside Harry. Snape watched as the cat sniffed at his cloak before clawing his way from one end to the other. There, he looked at Snape before stretching out by Harry's legs and starting to groom himself.

Harry remained blissfully unaware of the look of frozen anger on the Potion Master's face.

********************

**_September 1996_**

Dumbledore silently read the parchment for a second time before looking at the people currently crowded into his office. All of the Hogwarts teachers where there, along with several school governors and two people from the Ministry for Magical Education.

"I assume this has been voted on."

Lucius Malfoy, the only person besides Dumbledore to be sat down, slowly rubbed his hands together. "You must have realised this was coming, Professor. Hogwarts is no longer fulfilling its role as a school. You seem more intent on indoctrinating our children rather than teaching them."

There was a murmur of anger from the teachers, but a wave of Dumbledore's hand silenced them. "And will your new school be taking in ALL students? There is no discrimination here. A policy we have always been very proud of."

"The school has a very strict selection criteria, unlike this one. We want the best graduates in the world to come from the Slytherin School of Magical Arts."

"And that will include Muggle-born as well?"

Malfoy's lip twitched spasmodically. "All candidate students will be assessed on their abilities."

"And those not 'lucky' enough to get in? What will their education be?"

A witch from the Ministry started to answer. "We are in the middle of..." She was silenced by a wave of Malfoy's hand.

"We are in the middle of a complete review of all the educational needs of the Wizarding community. Our children should not have to attend Muggle schools before they are 11-years-old, nor should they have to be taught at home."

"Contact with the Muggle world is important, Lucius. We should not cut ourselves off from them.

Malfoy gave a snort of derision. "You may keep Hogwarts open to current students who decide they wish to stay, but there will be no new intake. Any students here will be eligible to take the entrance exams for Slytherin. I require their names by the end of this week." 

Getting to his feet, Malfoy turned towards Severus. "Professor Snape will be joining Slytherin with immediate effect." There was a sudden buzz of noise from the other members of staff along with shocked expressions. Malfoy was clearly enjoying himself and he turned to the door, indicating the Ministry officials and Governors should follow him. They nearly walked into him as he stopped and made a final announcement, grey eyes glittering with triumph at Dumbledore. "Oh, I almost forgot. Your funding will be removed immediately."

********************

Severus swept down the corridor aware that everyone seemed to be looking at him. He always knew the Hogwarts' grapevine could move spectacularly fast, but this was bizarre. He had only left the Headmaster's office ten minutes before.

Pointedly ignoring the looks and whispered comments, he stared directly ahead. Let them think what they wanted. His move to the new school would allow him even greater access to Voldemort's plans. Besides, these people should be grateful. Thanks to his intelligence reports, Dumbledore had known about Malfoy's plans in advance of the ultimatum. Because of that he had managed to secure funding so Hogwarts would continue.

He turned a corner and paused. Coming towards him was Harry Potter.

The 16-year-old had matured into a lanky teenager - all arms and legs despite his lack of height. His hair was better controlled now, but the thick black locks were still often the subject of conversation amongst the female students in his classes, much as his father's had been when he was that age. In fact, Severus reminded himself it could very well be James walking towards him now, except for the piercing green eyes. They belonged to Lily.

Harry stopped a few paces before the teacher, his hands hidden in the folds of his robes. The look in his eyes seemed to be full of maturity beyond his years. "I hear you are leaving."

On another occasion Severus would have given the boy detention for the tone of his comment. "Yes, Potter. No doubt you will take great pleasure from that."

"Not necessarily. Some times things aren't always what they seem, are they."

"Oh? Have you been practicing your divination skills or are you just wildly stabbing in the dark as usual?"

Harry suddenly held out his hand. Between his thumb and forefinger was a small silver amulet shaped like a stag. "This has been charmed. If you need help - some sort of dire situation - snap it in half. Its twin will register the break." A second amulet appeared in his other hand.

Snape knew the stag was important to Harry. It represented the boy's Patronus, used against the Dementors (and not without its other uses if the caster was powerful enough). It was also the form Harry's father James took when he became an Animagus. But why use it in an amulet made for someone else? "Does Professor Dumbledore know you are doing magic outside of official classes?"

"No."

Snape's eyes narrowed slightly. "Then why would you care enough to risk expulsion by creating these little trinkets?"

The slight smile on Harry's face was enigmatic. "Because we all need help occasionally. Because you have saved my life on more than one occasion."

The teacher's eyebrow rose quizzically. "And will it work?"

Harry shrugged. "There's no way of checking it until it is used. It's a one-use only amulet and I might have gotten the charm and potion wrong. You know what I'm like at potions."

"And how will you find me should this hypothetical dire situation occur?"

"Location magic. It's all there." Harry pocketed the second amulet.

"Most people believe I am a Death Eater." Severus paused for a second then pulled up the sleeve of his robe, showing the boy the mark on his forearm.

"Professor Dumbledore trusts you and I trust him." Harry pressed the silver amulet into Severus' outstretched hand. "Good luck." He stepped round the teacher and carried on down the corridor.

Severus watched him disappear and looked down at the charm. He sighed deeply. "Oh James, what have you created? If we're not careful; if he ever turned his powers to the dark, he could become even worse than Voldemort."

********************

**_October 1996_**

"Professor."

Severus turned from the blackboard where he was writing instruction for his first lesson and watched as Draco Malfoy strode across the empty classroom. The boy dropped his book bag onto a desk and continued to the front of the class.

"Welcome to Slytherin." He thrust a hand out, which Severus shook. 

"Thank you, Mr Malfoy."

Draco hitched himself onto a desk. "Father says great things will come from this school."

"No doubt. As long as you and your fellow students are willing to work." Severus hefted the piece of chalk. "Potions will be very different from what you learned at Hogwarts. You will be given the chance to experiment with dark arts work if your grades from the first term are sufficient."

The boy's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Excellent."

Even though Draco didn't make the gesture, Severus could almost feel him mentally punching the air with delight. "Dark arts potions are not to be taken lightly, Mr Malfoy. They are very dangerous and the consequences of their misuse will not only affect the person they are used on, but the caster as well."

_What am I doing here?_ Severus questioned himself yet again. _What am I doing teaching these children such terrible things?_ He had considered using false potions, but there were too many people at Slytherin with the knowledge to know he was lying. As for Draco, the boy probably knew as much about dark arts potions as he did. No, he had to teach the real think if his cover wasn't to be compromised. 

It didn't help that Severus knew what Voldemort was planning for graduates from Slytherin. They would be the next generation of Death Eaters and dark wizards, conditioned into dark ways and narrow-minded intolerance. No non-pureblood would ever set foot in this school even if they were the most exceptional student in the world.

He looked at Draco and the eager anticipation on the boy's face. Draco was one of those exceptional students, especially when it came to potion making. He had the ability to concentrate and not to be distracted from his task. Distraction was where most students failed. Timing, order, movement. All so important when preparing a potion, but how many students missed the timing, forgot the order or never worked out how to stir a mixture. Draco had a single-minded focus when involved in potions and that was why he was so good at it.

Why hadn't the boy remained at Hogwarts? There he would have been directed along a much safer path than the one laid out by the Dark Lord. Here, his only path would end in darkness, pledged to serve Voldemort, branded forever as Severus had been. Severus knew how lucky he was that Dumbledore found him and brought him back into the light. If that hadn't have happened he shuddered to think where he might be now.

He wondered whether to tell Draco the truth. If he could get him to understand what was really happening rather than the lies and half-truths Lucius would tell him, then there might be some hope. But he knew he couldn't risk his cover. Too many people were relying on him.

********************

**_Now_**

If only he had spoken to Draco that day five years ago, maybe none of this with Harry would be happening.

Snape rubbed at his eyes, tiredness creeping up. He felt a little light-headed and almost instinctively he reached for the remains of the chocolate bar.

If Voldemort wanted to get rid of Harry, why hadn't he just killed Draco the moment the _Speculumous_ mirroring curse been activated? It would have been so easy for him to destroy both boys in that way. Why keep them alive? There had to be another reason besides Voldemort desire to torture them, which came as no surprise to Snape. Voldemort liked nothing better than to see a person suffer. Surely the Dark Lord must realise the longer he allowed them to live, the more chance that both would slip from his grasp. According to ancient records, the caster needed the trigger physically close to use the curse. If Harry's plan worked and Draco did escape, it would buy them all some time.

Time for what? Time to look for a cure when there was none? Time to try and undo Voldemort's poison, which was slowly killing not only him, but also the two boys. And how had the Dark Lord managed to give Harry the potions anyway? He must have been following Harry for some time in order for Narcissa to successfully give Harry the potion. So much for Sirius Black and his little taskforce, they had slipped up there.

As for Narcissa Malfoy. The bitch! Snape's fist clenched tight enough for his nails to cut into his palm. How could he have fallen for her lies?

********************

**_September 1997_**

He almost didn't hear the soft tapping on the door to his rooms. When it came again he stared wide-eyed at the damning evidence of his duplicity spread across the desk. Ciphers, messages from Dumbledore and his own reports littered the surface.

A third knock. Severus swept the lot into a desk drawer and straightening his robes, he set an expression of innocence on his face before crossing to the door.

"Severus, quick, let me in."

"Narcissa." He ushered the woman in, scanning the empty corridor before closing the door. "What are you doing here?"

She fell into his arms, tears suddenly streaming down her face, as the man wrapped her in an embrace. "Severus, he knows. He knows about us."

He pushed her away slightly so he could look at her face, seeing the livid red mark for the first time. She tried to cover it with her hair. "What do you mean?" His hand tenderly cupped the mark, her tears damping his palm. "Did he do this?"

A nod. "He accused me of having an affair with you." Her fingers twisted in Severus' robes. "I thought he was going to kill me. He is just so angry. I've never seen him like this."

"Shh, I won't let him hurt you again." Severus pulled her back into his arms. He had begun a relationship with Lucius' wife six months before. It had begun as a cold calculated way of finding out more about Lucius who was clearly Voldemort's favourite, but now it had become so much more. Narcissa had been a student with him at Hogwarts and he had always had a soft spot for her back then. Now 25 years on, it had been so easy to fall into those same roles, first as a friend and then as a lover. "Come on, sit down."

Narcissa allowed herself to be drawn to a chair and she collapsed back into it, tears streamed down her face. Severus found a handkerchief and knelt before her, carefully wiping the tears away. Looking calmer than he felt, he debated what he should do. He didn't believe he actually loved Narcissa. In fact he didn't believe he had ever loved anyone. But she meant so much to him back at Hogwarts; despite the fact she had left him for Lucius. 

He hadn't meant to fall for her again, but she had made his days at Slytherin bearable, and, more recently, the nights worth living for. Could he endanger his cover just because he felt something for this woman? Could he let her go back to Lucius to be beaten again? He was, after all, the instigator of the affair and just as responsible as she was.

"What do you want to do?"

"Oh, I don't know. What choice do I have? I don't know what I want anymore. He twists everything ... makes me feel useless ... stupid." 

"You aren't any of those things."

She took the offered handkerchief, wringing it in her hands. "He's changed so much. I want him to be the person he used to be, but he scares me now."

Finally he said. "Narcissa, you don't have to go back. I can get you out of here - away from Lucius. I have friends who will take care of you."

She reached out and touched his face. "No, I have put you in enough danger already. I've dealt with Lucius in the past and I can do it again now. And your friends - I can't involve them in my problems."

"They would understand."

"And if I leave, I dread to think what might happen to Draco." 

"Then take the boy with you. Get him away from Lucius before it's too late." Severus held tightly onto her arms. "You know Lucius will have him marked with 'his' brand. Voldemort wants Draco. Get the boy out and he might just get through this." Severus knew he had said too much already, but it was too late now. 

"Severus, I don't understand. Are you saying ... saying you don't ... following the Dark Lord?" Her voice had become a frightened whisper and she clutched at him.

"There are hundreds and hundreds who don't follow him, Narcissa. Hundreds who would fight to get rid of him once and for all. Please, let me get you away from Lucius."

For what seemed like forever, Narcissa stared into his eyes and then finally she fell into his arms. "Oh yes, please, Severus. Get me out of here."

For some time the two didn't move, then finally Severus disentangled himself. "I want you to wait here."

"No, don't leave me. Where are you going?"

"I won't be long."

"Please, don't leave me."

"I'm going to get Draco and then I will get you both away from him. Just wait here and lock the door. Don't let anyone else in." He brushed her hair from her face and came to his feet. "Just don't leave."

When Severus returned ten minutes later, he had Draco with him. The door opened at Severus' command and the two walked in.

Facing them across the room were Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. And Severus quickly realised, at least six other people, all of whom he recognised as Death Eaters.

Lucius looked at his son, registering the surprise on the boy's face. "Go away, Draco."

"But father..."

"I said LEAVE!" His voice rose louder with each word. With an expression of fear, Draco looked at his mother and then Severus before turning on his heel and fleeing the room. Someone slammed the door closed.

Severus said nothing. The look on Narcissa's face was completely different. Gone was the soft loving expression he had come to care for and in its place was a cold calculated air. There was a slight upturn to the corners of her mouth as though she was pleased with something. And the livid mark? That was gone and he wondered if it had ever been real.

"Well, Severus. I think it is time we had a talk."

"I don't answer to you, Lucius. If I am to talk to anyone it will be to our Master."

"Oh, he will talk to you soon enough, believe me." Lucius reached out a hand and very deliberately, Narcissa began to hand him pieces of parchment. Severus recognised them as the items he had earlier hidden in the draw. "What's this then? Ah, a letter from Dumbledore. How nice. And this? Why, it looks like a cipher. And this? A reply in your handwriting, Severus." A cruel sneer slowly grew on Lucius' face. "How long have you been betraying us? Since the beginning? Since you came to the school? And what about your potions, Severus? Have you been poisoning our Master?"

Severus did not reply. His eyes slowly went from Lucius to his wife and he realised that his plans had backfired. She had been the cold and calculated one. She had played him for a fool. He looked at her, a question in his eyes. Why?

Narcissa didn't smile back, but there was a look of triumph in her eyes. "Did you really think I would betray him?" she finally said as her hands wrapped around Lucius' arm. "Do you think I would leave Lucius for you?" The question was spoken with disdain. "You still have nothing to offer me Severus, just as you didn't at Hogwarts." 

"Get him out of here." Lucius gestured dismissively at Snape.

Severus offered no resistance, as he was lead from the room. His last sight was that of Narcissa, the woman he had given himself to body and soul, kissing the man he loathed.

********************

**_October 1997_**

Severus didn't speak again. Oh, he cried in pain. Moaned in agony. Screamed out his terror. But he never spoke a word to his torturers. Didn't utter anything to his guards.

It was the only way he could cope with what they did. The curses. The brutalisation. The physical and mental torture.

They questioned him non-stop until he lost track of time ... of the days ... of the sunrises and sunsets. They asked him the same things over and over. Even if he had wanted to speak, most of the questions he couldn't have answered anyway. Lucius Malfoy revelled in making things deliberately obtuse so they were impossible to answer. Sometimes Narcissa would be there, watching his pain, her face in rapt concentration as she followed each blow.

They wanted to know what protection spells where being used on Hogwarts and other 'light' magic locations. Wanted to know about Dumbledore, Potter and the other 'light' soldiers. Wanted to know what had been promised to the giants to make them change sides.

Again and again.

He crouched in the corner of his filthy cell, his tattered robes equally filthy with his blood and mess. He longed for the luxury of a wash - not a bath or a shower, but simply a bucket of cold water. Something to make him feel human again.

Instead he coughed, fearing he was sickening, and hoping any illness would kill him quickly.

They didn't always treat him badly. Twice they had taken him away, cleaned his wounds, washed him in scented water and dressed him in fine robes. They had fed him and just as he had started to feel like a person again, everything was wrenched away and he was thrown back into this filthy hole and into despair.

They had taken him to Voldemort, once in his rags and once in his clean clothes. Those were the worse times. Voldemort used the mark on his arm to inflict pain he had never imagined possible. 

And then there was the curse.

********************

Severus thought the room was the same one he had been taken to meet the Dark Lord two years before, but he wasn't sure. That room had been in Malfoy Manor and he was sure he was still at the Slytherin School. Had they moved him and he didn't realise?

The room was in total darkness. The fine clothes they had dressed him in offered little resistance against the cold, and he trembled uncontrollably as it seeped almost immediately into his bones. He tried not to cough, but his chest hurt from the damp in the cell and he thought he might have pneumonia. A flare of light made him squint and he held up a hand to shield his eyes. It was the soft glow of a wand and there in the circle of light was the scaled hand of Voldemort.

"Come closer." The hand gestured. 

After a moment's hesitation, Severus stepped forward, but he felt as if his legs had been kicked out from under him. It happened so quickly, that he didn't have chance to put out his hand to protect himself. He slammed to the floor, the breath knocked painfully out of his body. 

"You dare to approach me on your feet?" The cold voice hissed. "Crawl."

Severus debated whether to resist, but decided this was not the time for a show of bravado. He crawled towards the light, trying to make out the outline of Voldemort in the darkness. There seemed to be nothing but the hand, the darkness was so complete around him. Stopping just out of the circle of light, Severus sat back on his heels.

The hand was held out to him, but this time Severus refused to take it, refused to raise it to his lips. And Voldemort's punishment for his transgression felt like he was being consumed by fire. When it ended, he was a sobbing wreak, curled in a tight ball at the Dark Lord's feet. 

"See what happened when you disobey me, Severus." Voldemort made the man whimper. "But see what happens when you obey."

It felt like someone had wrapped a warm blanket around him and the blanket had sucked all the pain from his body. It took away the fire and the hurt, which numbed him through to the core of his being, and for a moment he felt like a human being again. Safe. Warm. Beloved. Then, as quickly as he had been given this gift, it was snatched away. He choked back a sob.

The scaled hand reached down and in a strangely tender gesture, Severus felt his head being stroked. He froze.

"Why did you turn from me?" The cold voice was tinged with regret. "Have I not given you gifts beyond anyone else?" The hand grabbed at his hair, yanking Severus' head up painfully. He tried to find a balance, to stop his hair taking the whole weight of his body, but Voldemort twisted and pulled him upwards and his hands found nothing. "Is this how you repay me?" There was no response. "I was told you refused to talk. We will see."

Voldemort released his hold, dumping the man back to the floor. "I have decided to give you a change to redeem yourself. To return to me and to live. You do want to live, don't you Severus?"

Severus dropped prostrate on the floor, trying to move himself out of reach of the foot he could now make out in the darkness.

"You were my Potions Master before. Such a talented mixer of dreams and terror. I want you to mix those things again for me. You had such skill. You managed to interpret things that others missed." Voldemort threw a book. It caught Severus on the side of the head and clattered to the floor.

Recognising it straight away, Severus shuffled back, away from it. He knew it was his own notebook, full of his neat writing listing in minute detail many of the things he had made for the Dark Lord when he had been a Death Eater.

"But you used cryptic words in your notes didn't you and my new Potions Master doesn't understand them. If you transcribe one of your potions, I will release you. You can rejoin us if you wish or go back to your simpering do-gooders. The choice will be yours." Severus didn't move. "We will find the answer without you, it is just a matter of time." The book flew open, pages turning by themselves until, eventually stopping about halfway through. The word across the top of the page read _Speculumous_. "Do you remember finding this for me, Severus? How excited you were when you realised what could be achieved with it. Do you remember the care you put into formulating that potion? How you insisted on giving it to that first target yourself?"

Severus realised his shivering was no longer from the cold. He had done some terrible things while he was a Death Eater, but this came way up there towards the top of his list. How could he have ever brought back to life a potion capable of such horrors? Why hadn't he left it in the musty collection of papers he'd stolen from Hogwarts when he had pledged himself to Voldemort? How many people had it been used upon in those years?

"It was a wonderful tool, Severus, and I need it again. Teach my Potions Master it's secret and you can go."

Severus shook his head.

"Is it so much to ask you? Your insignificant life for this insignificant potion? We are almost there, but your notes are so very clever. Did you do that deliberately so others could not steal your work?" The wand shifted, pointing to another spot in the room. A second circle of light, its source unknown, appeared. In its centre lay a child, probably 11 or 12 and Severus realised it was a student from Slytherin. "We are ready to test what we have so far, but because you won't help the blood of this child will be on your hands if it fails."

Severus watched in horror as the child was given a potion. He was still in that state of shock when the second part of the curse was flung at him. He felt like his body had been ripped apart and put back together. Amidst the shock, his mind found space to think. _Was this what it had been like for all the triggers?_ If only he had known.

The wand pointed at him again, and he heard the word _Crucio_. The curse cut into him and he struggled to work through the pain. It felt like slivers of glass were driving into his eyes, but he managed to focus through it onto the child who did not move.

The mirroring curse had failed. They had gotten it wrong. And Voldemort exploded, enraged with anger as Severus remained silent despite the waves of agony thrown at him.

********************

That had been yesterday and his silence had earned him yet another beating, this one carried out with particular maliciousness by Lucius Malfoy. Ripped and torn flesh still oozed blood if he moved and he wasn't sure if he would ever be able to see out of his left eye again. It was closed tightly shut and sharp daggers of white pain would arch from it occasionally.

He reached for the small container of water at his side and took a tiny sip. The water might have to last him hours or days depending on what his captors decided. He held the water in his mouth for a moment, letting it wash over his teeth and tongue before slowly swallowing the precious liquid.

Putting the container down beside his foot, he sneaked a hand surreptitiously to his ankle. He had to be careful because he never knew if he was being watched. Resting against the bony protuberance of his ankle joint, he could feel a thin chain made invisible by his own dark magic incantations. On the chain was the silver stag Harry Potter had given him. The amulet had become very important to him. It had become a reminder of what he was fighting for - a link with that previous life. He had contemplated snapping it many times since Narcissa had betrayed him, but each time the thought had been dismissed. To snap the amulet would tell Potter he was in trouble and he knew the boy would respond. Would try to rescue him. Severus knew he couldn't risk that; if Potter came here, Voldemort would kill him. 

Severus' fingers followed the chain and eventually reached the stag. 

He went cold. Instead of the familiar complete form of the amulet, he now traced two halves of the stag, hanging innocently from the chain. Something must have happened during that last beating. He could feel the raised wheal from one of the blows of Lucius Malfoy's cane, which ran from his foot and up to the middle of his calf. The blow must have split the amulet.

Severus slid to the floor, a cry catching in his throat as he realised it was too late. Despite all his attempts, he had just handed Harry Potter to his greatest enemy.

********************

**_Now_**

And that, Snape realised was why he was sat in the darkened lounge of this lighthouse watching over a sleeping boy. He had given Voldemort the _Speculumous_ curse currently flowing through Harry Potter's body, and which Snape knew still polluted his own. The curse might not have worked when Voldemort had tested it on the Potions Master, but Snape knew it was still there, poisoning his cells and slowly destroying him bit by tiny bit.

He didn't remember the rescue. 

By the time Harry, Ron, Fred and George had reached his cell, he had been delirious with fever from the infections of his wounds. He vaguely remembered they had dressed him and used spells to stop his bleeding. He thought they had carried him out, but everything had been a blur and no one had ever discussed it when they had reached the safety of Hogwarts. He did remember that Harry had left the group at one point and later Dumbledore told Snape about the crystal cave the boy had found where they planned to lure Voldemort and trap him for all time.

So did what happened constitute a life debt? The four boys had saved his life; there was no doubt about that. He would have been dead within days if they had not risked their lives.

As for the _Speculumous_ potion, what would Sirius, Harry and the others think if he told them his part in its history? How he had plucked it out of obscurity, reinventing it and given it to Voldemort. No doubt, his own notes had been exploited to produce the potion used on Harry and Draco. That was why he knew so much about the curse. It was why he knew the potion would slowly poison the victim over the course of years. He knew because he had been trying to cure himself since that day four years ago.

How could he tell Harry this? At least he knew he'd lived a good, if sometimes painful and, occasionally evil, life. Harry was only 21 years old. He had hardly begun to live and Snape had given him a life sentence.

********************

The silver Ford Fiesta crunched noisily up the gravel driveway and Emily was pleased to see Harry's green sports car parked in front of the lighthouse. Her two days at the health spa had left her feeling relaxed and happy despite the terrible traffic on the journey home. But now all she wanted to do now was curl up with Harry in those expressive arms of his and lose herself in him.

She grabbed her bags from the car and let herself into the building. It was quiet and she frowned. No music? Surely he hadn't gone to bed already. She glanced at her watch; it was 9:12pm and Harry never got to bed much before 11. Unless, of course, he was unwell.

Leaving the bags by the front door, Emily went into the lounge. Her first impression was that something was wrong with the light - it was normally much brighter then this. Perhaps, she decided, the bulb was going. She fiddled with the light switch, turning it on and off a couple of times. It remained dim, barely breaking the darkness.

She was just about to turn on a table lamp when someone cleared his throat.

It was not Harry.

At the same time, the overhead light seemed to become brighter, enough for her to make out that there was a person, back to her, sat on a chair. The figure rose and turned to face her. Emily opened her mouth to scream.

"Please, Miss Shaw, Don't scream." The voice was a whisper. "You might wake him up."

The scream came out as a squeak and Emily realised she was brandishing the lamp in front of her. The man seemed taller than she remembered, or perhaps it was the way he was dressed. "Professor Snape?" She started to lower the lamp, but then had second thoughts and raised it again. "What on earth are you doing here? Where's Harry?"

"He is asleep." He indicated the settee where she could now make out a second person. As if on cue, Harry muttered something unintelligible and turned over, his back now to them, tangling himself further in the cloak. 

Thomas tumbled unceremoniously to the floor. The cat looked startled for a moment (then again, Thomas always seemed to have a startled expression on his face), and proceeded to clean himself briefly, giving the impression he had deliberately fallen to the floor. Then, as if seeing Emily for the first time, he sashayed across the room and began purring around her feed.

Emily debated whether to go to Harry, but Snape stood between them and at that moment she didn't want to go any closer to the stranger than she was now.

The table lamp was slowly returned to its original place. "What are you doing here?" She remembered the brief interaction she had with Snape during his previous visit. Back then he had been dressed in at least fairly normal clothes, but now he was wearing a long deep purple robe which buttoned up to a standing collar. Over it was a floor-length black garment, open down the front. It's long sleeves reached to the tips of his fingers and she could only see his hands if he pulled the sleeves back. He looked like a priest or a Victorian schoolteacher. "I think you should leave." He didn't move. "I could call the police."

"And tell them what? When Potter wakes up, he will vouch for my presence here."

"Potter?" Emily frowned at him. "Look, who are you and what do you want? Just how do you know Harry?"

"I am Severus Snape. I was Mr Potter ... Harry's teacher."

"At school?"

Snape folded his arms across his chest. "Where else would I teach?"

Emily mirrored his posture. "Stonewall High?"

"I am not familiar with that establishment."

"Really? I was under the impression that was where Harry went to school. So what school did you teach at?" Snape did not respond. She looked fiercely at him. "Okay, then what did you teach him?"

He thought for a moment. "Chemistry."

"Chemistry? Was he any good?"

"Not really. He never had the patience for it."

"Oh? Then what was he good at?"

"You will have to ask his other teachers that question."

Emily realised Snape had walked around the chair towards her, black robes brushing the ground. She swallowed nervously. "Harry doesn't talk about his past much." She was surprised at the comment because it was true and she had never realised it before. She was forever going on about her family, her school, her old friends and Harry would listen. But apart from the odd comment about the Dursleys, he never talked about his childhood. The guest list for his birthday party had included no one from before he was 18 with the exception of the Dursleys, and they were equally as tight-lipped about Harry's childhood. Even the biography in his book said nothing about his past, just that he was a self-taught photographer.

A slight smile crept across the man's face. "Not surprising, considering our Mr Potter's history."

"What are you talking about?"

The smile grew. "Hasn't he told you who he is?" Snape closed his eyes, savouring the moment. He knew he shouldn't talk to a Muggle about Wizarding things, but this was just too good an opportunity to miss - a chance to finally get back at Potter. Oh, how delicious. 

He chided himself, remembering he was an adult who shouldn't give into petty vindictiveness. He should approach any discussion about Harry Potter with a completely open mind and not transmit his dislike for the boy into the conversation. But, then again, payback could be fun whatever the age. He wanted to rub his hands in glee, but did manage to keep his calm exterior intact. And besides, this woman had a right to know what was going on and if Potter wouldn't tell her then someone else should.

"Let me show you something." He beckoned her with a finger and walked to the alcove housing Harry's picture gallery.

After a moment's hesitation, Emily followed. She turned on the small overhead spots, which illuminated the individual prints.

"I take it this is all Harry's work." Emily nodded, wondering what the point of this was. Snape pointed at the print of a sleeping woman. "Do you know who this is?"

Emily shrugged. "No, but I've always liked it. Now I suppose you are going to tell me she is someone from this mysterious school you teach chemistry at."

"Yes. Her name is Hermione Granger. I would like you to watch the photograph for a moment."

"What?" The man was mad.

"Just study it. I will make some tea."

She watched as he headed for the kitchen. Clearly he knew his way around. "Yeah, go on. Make yourself at home," she tutted irritably. 

With him out of the way, Emily quickly went to Harry. She crouched beside the settee and pushed his tussled hair back from his face. "Harry." The word was a whisper.

"He won't wake up just yet." Snape's voice came from the kitchen. "You must have noticed he hasn't been sleeping well." The man was right, Emily thought. Since his birthday, Harry would often not there beside her if she woke during the night. "I have given him ... a herbal sleeping infusion. He should wake refreshed in the morning." 

"Is it safe? This infusion."

"Of course it is. I occasionally use it myself."

"That's hardly a recommendation," she muttered.

"You should try it. It might make your mood more agreeable. Now you are supposed to be studying the photograph."

Emily mouthed a few choice words, but there was something in the man's voice that made her follow his instructions. She envisaged scores of scared children taking chemistry from this monster, quaking over their test tubes as he vilified them in front of their classmates. Getting to her feet, she bent down and kissed Harry on the mouth. For a moment she thought he responded, but the sensation passed. Straightening, Emily turned her attention back to the photograph.

Photo-Hermione's eyes were open.

Emily sucked in a lung full of shocked air, her hand going to her mouth. She blinked and found the photograph had reverted to its former state - that of a 15-year-old girl sleeping peacefully, whatever she was dreaming of causing a tiny smile on her face.

Slowly, her eyes now fixed on the image, Emily returned to the alcove. She touched the glass covering the print. It had to be a trick of the light. Then the eyelids flickered open again and brown eyes, so similar to her own, winked at her.

Emily staggered back, straight into Snape's arms. He steadied her. "It looked straight at me. How did you do that?"

"I did nothing." He led her unresisting through to the kitchen and sat her down. 

"But it moved. Ron's always said it did that."

"Ron?"

"Harry's publisher."

"Hmm. Interesting." He poured the tea and passed her a cup.

Emily looked down at the perfectly made cup of tea. "It moved," she repeated.

There was a long silent pause before Snape responded. "Magic." 

The pause that followed was even longer and at the end of it Emily gave a single 'ha'. "What? You mean like Paul Danials and that American guy David Copperfield? Slight of hand and illusion? Pulling rabbits out of hats and making the Statue of Liberty disappear?" She started to giggle, until she saw the look on Snape's face. He looked deadly serious.

"I mean no such thing. I am talking about real magic, not tricks." He reached into his robes and pulled out his wand.

Emily looked sceptically at him, desperately trying to keep a straight face. "A wand? For heaven's sake, I don't believe it. Shouldn't it be black with little white bits on each end? Are you going to start waving it around shouting 'Izzy wizzy, let's get busy'? This is just too much."

"No, more like _Rosa Flosculus_." Snape brought the wand down in an arch of silver and green stars. Rose petals started floating down from somewhere near the ceiling, slowly covering the table in a perfumed layer.

She stopped laughing for a moment, lips pursed. "Now, that is impressive, but I've seen better. Do you do card tricks as well." 

"If you don't wish to listen then I cannot make you, but that would be your loss, not mine." He looked at her through narrowed eyes as she absently picked up a couple of petals. Personally, he didn't care if she thought he was an illusionist, but now he had begun telling her the truth, he did want her to appreciate the seriousness of the situation. He hefted the wand for a moment thoughtfully, then took hold of the tip and held out the hilt towards her. "Here."

"You want me to play with your wand? I bet you use that line with all the girls." Snape said nothing, his face completely impassive. "Okay, why not." Emily's fingers closed round the hilt. 

Snape had intended using the wand to direct his power back down towards her so that she could understand what real magic felt like. He stopped. He didn't need to use the wand as a transfer. Emily might not be a witch, but the potential was within her, and it sparked the wand into life. He could feel its charge transferring back to him. He let go.

"Wow." Emily's eyes opened wide as she felt the energy rise like static electricity through her body. Snape saw it as a blue/gold haze in her aura. "What is this?" She dropped the wand and it clattered to the table.

"That was real magical energy. In some people it is a vital force. In others it is a latent energy. Some non-magical people can also experience it. Clearly you are tuned into that power. Perhaps that is why you are drawn to Potter."

"Okay, enough already. Are you trying to tell me Harry is a magician?"

"He is a wizard."

"And there is a difference?"

"I like to believe a magician is a Muggle..."

"Muggle?"

"What those in the Wizarding world call a non-magical person. What you might refer to as a 'normal' person. A magician is a Muggle who has learned tricks and, as you have said, slight of hand. A wizard or witch is born with their ability. In them it is real, as real as breathing is to you. Harry was born a wizard. His father, James, was a wizard. His mother, Lily, was a witch."

"His aunt told me they did in a car crash."

"They didn't. They were killed by a very powerful wizard."

"This is beginning to sound like some sort of fairy story. Something out of _Lord of the Ring_."

"Believe what you will."

And he proceeded to tell her the whole story.

About Voldemort and what he had done to the Wizarding world when Snape was a child. 

Of Lily and James and their son who survived Voldemort's curse and sent the Dark Lord into oblivion. 

He told her what he knew of Harry's childhood with his aunt and uncle, and of his years at Hogwarts. 

She learned about the girl in the picture and Harry's best friend Ron and how they had helped him fight Voldemort when he had returned. 

He explained how things had changed when Hogwarts split and how the war was now spilling into the Muggle world.

He didn't tell her what his own role had been, but he explained how Harry had left when he was 18 and why people through he had gone. 

He did tell her what his wizarding friends thought had happened to Harry on his 21st birthday and the danger he was now in. And he tried to explain why The Boy Who Lived was so important to the Wizarding community.

While Snape talked, Emily listened, hardly making any comments. She provided tea and water, made supper, poured wine and, occasionally, remembered to check on Harry. It was gone two in the morning when he finally sat back, finished.

Snape waited for Emily to comment, but instead she sat with a glass of wine in one hand while the other swept rose petals into little heaps, occasionally the odd petal would still flutter down to join those on the table. Finally, she drained the glass. "So, my Harry is some sort of important wizard."

"Yes."

"Who decided he didn't want to be a famous wizard anymore."

"Yes."

"But you people want him back."

"No. We want him safe."

"Yeah, right. This Voldemort person wants him dead."

"We believe that is the case."

"And Harry's been cursed."

"Yes."

"Severus. What sort of name is that?"

He was taken aback by the sudden change in conversation. "You will have to ask my parents."

"Umm. It's Latin you know. It means strict, severe, terrible." 

"As Potter often took great delight in reminding me."

"You know, this is the 21st century. People don't get cursed any more."

"I am not trying to convince you. You are intelligent for a Muggle and open-minded enough to reach your own conclusions."

"I always thought witchcraft was New Age nonsense. People dancing naked in the woods round fires, scented candles, crystals and self-help books. That sort of thing."

Snape smiled. "I have danced naked, but never outside and never round a fire. In fact, it had nothing to do with witchcraft or wizardry."

Emily smiled back and filled his glass. "So, are you a member of Harry's fan club?"

"Certainly not. Potter spent his entire time at Hogwarts disobeying rules and causing problems. If it weren't for the fact of who he was, he would have been expelled in his first year. I'm surprised other students liked him so much considering what he was allowed to get away with."

"It's not his fault." Emily's voice was quiet.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You know, Professor, Harry is a lovely person. His 'Muggle friends' as you call them, don't know anything about magic, the Boy Who Lived or this Voldemort person. We just know him as Harry, a kind and generous soul who's always there for the people who care for him. If you could just looked past this 'famous' tag your kind have given him, you'd see the real person. He didn't ask for this did he? Didn't ask for people to put him on that pedestal. Stop making him have to prove himself all the time and let him be an ordinary person."

"But he isn't ordinary. If you still think that, then you haven't listened to a word I have said."

"No, it's you who is missing the point. He is ordinary, but with the extraordinary ability to care for people whether by using your magic or by being a find person. Give him a chance for once. Harry didn't ask for his parents to be killed did he? From what you've told me, he had never used his name to gain anything. He didn't know he was famous before going to this Hogwarts place. It's not his fault others want to use him."

Snape looked at her for a moment, knowing what she said was true. Harry had never asked for anything. He was like his father in that and he would go out of his way to help people. And that was what angered him most. Harry had never demanded recognition for anything he did. Not even for saving his hated Potions Master's life, which brought him right back to the life debt. Harry had never talked about rescuing him from Voldemort, even after the way Snape had treated him at school. He never expected any thanks for what he had done.

"Do you believe me?" he finally said.

Emily sighed. "The petals came from somewhere. But magic? I'm not sure."

He came to his feet. "Very well. Have it your way." He disappeared into the lounge for several minutes and when he returned, he placed a small bottle on the table. "Considering the lateness of the hour, I think I can safely leave this for Harry. Please make sure he takes it. Don't wake him; he needs as much rest as possible. As for my cloak..." He glanced back at the settee where the twin pinpoints of Thomas' eyes stared at him from the darkness. "You cat seems to have taken a liking to it."

"Are you leaving?"

"Yes. I have a busy day tomorrow." He glanced at the clock. It was gone three in the morning. "Or rather later today."

"How?" She sat back, holding his gaze, a slight smug smile on her face. "By broomstick?"

"No, not this time." He found his wand from under the rose petals. "I'll apparate."

And he vanished.

Emily almost fell off her chair. 

She remained in the kitchen for a long time, watching the empty spot where the wizard had stood.

--------------------

**Next chapter:** Happy birthday, Hermione! However, it won't be the nice quiet occasion she had hoped for. Who do the twins find walking the streets of London? Will Ron control his impulses? Does Padfoot like having his tummy rubbed? And just what is Hermione doing in Harry's bedroom?

The quotes shown in italics in this chapter are taken _Goblet of Fire_ by JK Rowling.

**Now, the thanks to the best crew in the world...**

My very special betas: _Josie_ (for picking up my mistakes), _Emily_ and _Antares_ (for their ideas and input)

_Thursday,_ who is partly responsible for this chapter. The whole Snape thing was only going to be a couple of paragraphs originally. 

_Ashleigh,_ who is my rock and never seems to tire of my pitiful emails and always has something constructive to say. 

_Ginzai,_ who reviewed the last chapter which such finesse and who then carried on answering my questions and comments in such a way that I think she was actually reading my mind.

To everyone who has reviewed or commented on the previous chapter. Unfortunately my computer died and I lost all my emails so can't mention everyone by name. Please accept this as a personal mention and know that it is your comments that keep me (and I imagine loads of other authors) writing. Your comments are noted and do get introduced into the story (looked what happened to Thursday). Carry on reviewing and help me make things even better.

And finally, a mention in dispatches to _Simon Branford_ about Hedwig. Yes, Simon, she does have something to do with you. Back in my naive days when I had just found HP fandom on the web, I had no idea what shipping was. I had decided to write this story however and a dark idea formed in the back of my mind to make Hedwig an Animagus. It got thrown out because I thought the idea was silly. However, Simon responded to a post from me about ships with: "I personally am a Harry/Hedwig shipper (with Hedwig being an Animagus)". Thank you, Simon, because after reading this, I changed my mind and put her back in. Hedwig is turning out to be very popular. I am sorry to have to say there isn't going to be any Harry/Hedwig romance going on here, but I hope I will end up doing justice to the lovely lady.

Any reviews, are more than welcome, either here on the EZ Board (click on review), to me at frances@forever.u-net.com or feel free to post your comments at the Yahoo group for this story http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HP_comingofage. All up and coming chapters will be posted there first.


	9. Happy Birthday, Hermione

**Title: Coming of Age: Chapter 9 -- Happy Birthday, Hermione (9/?)**

**Author name:** Frances Potter

**Author email**: frances@forever.u-net.com

**Category:** Just about everything: Angst/Darkfic, Mystery, a little Action/Adventure, some Romance.

**Keywords:** Harry, Draco, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Sirius, Remus, Severus, Hedwig and Voldemort.

**Spoilers: **All books

**Rating:** PG-13 (UK rating 12). (Non-explicit adult themes, bad language, mental distress, violence)

**Summary: **Harry Potter thinks he has finally defeated Voldemort. But the battle has taken its toll and he decides to leave the Wizarding world for good. Three years later, the Dark Lord has a 21st birthday present for the Boy Who Lived, and it involves Draco Malfoy. Can the two overcome their past differences and work together before Voldemort destroys them both?

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Dedication: ** This chapter is dedicated to **_Ginzai, _**who has helped me turn wimp!Draco into a Draco we can all be proud of!

**Artwork: ** The very talented Lisa Rourke has produced the most wonderful drawing of CoA!Draco for me. She has managed to capture just what I think he looks like and I hope everyone will take a moment to check him out. Thanks also go to Circe for finding the photograph on which the drawing was based.

**What you need to know... **

Harry is 21. He is a well-known photographer, living as a Muggle with girlfriend Emily. Snape has told Emily that her boyfriend is a wizard (and saviour of the known universe). Harry is not aware of this. Lucius Malfoy is the Minister of Magic and Sirius Black is the Deputy Minister. Voldemort isn't dead; he's taken over Lucius Malfoy's body. Harry has powers that Voldemort wants. This was the reason for his attack on Lily and James 20 years before at Godric's Hollow. He plans to try and get these powers again. To help him achieve this, he has linked Draco and Harry with the *Speculumous* curse. This spell means Harry feels any curse used on Draco. This only applied to spells etc. If Draco is beaten up in the old fashioned Muggle way, Harry would not be affected. While he was a Death Eater, Snape actually perfected the *Speculumous* curse and gave it to Voldemort as a tool to use against his enemies. Snape is now rather sorry he did this. Hedwig, Harry's owl, is actually an Animagus who has a soft spot for Sirius. She has just helped Draco escape from Malfoy Manor. Ron and the whole Weasley clan hate Draco because they blame him for the deaths of Arthur and Bill. 

--------------------

Coming of Age Chapter Nine -- Happy Birthday, Hermione Are you cut up Or do you easily forget Are you still around Why haven't you managed to die yet You could prop up the bar in hell Needless to say I guess you know I hate you You're so full of sin Even the devil rates you 

-- Robbie Williams - _Karma Killer_

****

**_Wednesday 19th September 2001_**

He stood across the street from the Leaky Cauldron, leaning against a brick wall, watching as people came and went through the inconspicuous door. The hood of his bottle green travel cloak was pulled down over his face, casting his features into shadow, and he deliberately kept his head downcast. At his feet, the small backpack had been pushed against the wall to make sure no one could snatch it. He'd nearly lost his few possessions twice, so far.

It was strange how in all his previous visits to Diagon Alley through the Leaky Cauldron entrance, Draco had never noticed the sign over the door before. The words 'Leaky Cauldron' only appeared when a Wizarding person was near the building. Otherwise, it was just a dark, paint-peeled sign creaking occasionally as a lorry sped passed. Draco had passed the time watching the sign and trying to guess who was magical and who was Muggle. He finally came to the conclusion that Muggles just couldn't see the sign.

Someone stopped in front of him, and Draco automatically looked up. The man's eyes raked up and down and he smirked. "How much?"

Grey eyes glared. "Go away."

"Come on, kid. I'm doing you a favour." He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, fingering the edge of the cloak. "I like your clothes. Something different, nice touch."

Draco frowned, then his eyes widened as the meaning of the man's words became clear. For a moment he just stared, then his eyes narrowed into a dangerous angry look. "If you don't go away, I will break your legs."

The man shrugged and continued down the street. A hundred yards on, he stopped to talk to a young man, and this time he was lucky. The pair walked off.

Draco sighed and closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to remind himself why he was in this current situation. Standing on a street corner in London, with no money, only the clothes he stood up in, hungry (make that starving!) and exhausted from two nights of sleeping rough. Running away had seemed to be a great idea at the time, but now he wished for nothing more than his exquisitely soft bed at the manor.

"Here you go, mate."

Draco was just about to tell the person where to go when something was thrust into his hands. He looked down at the small cardboard container emblazoned with a large golden double arch, and realised that it contained food. He looked at the person, who had not stopped, and then down at the carton of fries. Despite the fries being only lukewarm, nothing could have tasted better and he quickly devoured the lot.

If his father could see him now -- being propositioned, begging on the streets. But then, it wasn't his father, was it?

Draco licked the salt from his fingers, tossed the empty carton into a nearby bin, and returned to waiting for Hedwig.

The owl might have gotten him off the Malfoy estate and helped him take the Knight Bus to London, but she'd flown off to wherever owls go during the day, leaving him stranded in the middle of the Muggle city with nothing but his bag and Potter's wand. She had told him to lay low until today when she would meet him here at Diagon Alley. The only problem was she was already more than two hours late.

Draco shook his head in wonderment. Trust Potter to have an owl that was an Animagus.

Of course, it was Potter he needed to see. An improbable state of affairs, granted. Under normal circumstances, Draco would have gone out of his way to avoid the ex-Gryffindor. But circumstances were far from 'normal'. It was just a shame the owl seemed to be going out of her way to be as unhelpful as possible. He'd asked her to take him to wherever Potter now lived, but she had just looked at him with those weird golden eyes and flown off.

He had thought about trying to find Potter on his own, but Draco had no idea where Harry lived since he dropped out of circulation. There had been rumours at the time that Potter was either dead or gone mad, but he now knew that Potter was very much alive, and the person who had joined him on the cloud, his illusionary safe place, had not been insane. He remembered that the Gryffindor had once lived with relatives somewhere in Surrey, but Draco had never had a reason to memorise the address. So with no way of finding him on his own, Draco had no choice but to follow Hedwig's instructions and meet her here at Diagon Alley.

Diagon Alley wasn't really that safe for him. He was from a prominent family and his face was known, especially since his father (Voldemort, he reminded himself) had been made Minister of Magic. Anyone might recognise him, and he'd find himself back at Malfoy Manor quicker than he could catch a Snitch.

He let out a long even breath. Was he really worried about being recognised? The owl seemed to think he was in danger, but just how quickly would Voldemort mobilise his people to find him? And would the general population really care if they did recognise him?

Of course, he did have Harry's wand. The owl had told him not to use it unless it was a catastrophic emergency because its magic could be tracked. What constituted 'catastrophic' had rapidly changed in his mind since the owl had first warned him.

He ran his right hand over his left forearm. Underneath the material of his shirt, he could feel the outline of the wand in its special holster. Of his own design, the holster protected the wand and kept it out of sight, but a flick of the wrist would bring it down into his outstretched hand in seconds. Much quicker than the standard carriers most witches and wizards used.

Did he trust the owl enough to believe that she was telling him the truth? She might have helped him escape from the Dark Lord, but she'd been part of Harry's life for ten years. It would be to him that her loyalty lay, not to Draco, and he was sure she would use him just as much as his own father had in the past.

Now, that was a new idea to him -- the fact that he could admit to himself that Lucius had used him. He knew that Hedwig had done something to him, messed with his mind in some way, but what? His mind felt ... clearer ... less cluttered than it used to. He felt as though the tight control he had kept on himself had disappeared. Replaced by what? He wasn't sure yet, but it seemed to let him see things in his life in a different light. As though Hedwig had opened previously locked and bolted floodgates.

But why leave him with the wand? She could have easily taken it away from him, he was sure of that. To entrust him with a wand must mean that she expected him to use it if the situation warranted it. And why should he do what she wanted anyway? How long was he prepared to wait out here on the Muggle street when his own world was just feet away? Why not just march into Diagon Alley and ask if anyone knew Harry Potter's current address?

Yet in the back of his mind, her words that magic from the wand could be traced did disturb him more than a little.

Surely the constant magical energy in and around Diagon Alley would shield any use of Harry's wand from prying eyes. And once through the portal and into Diagon Alley, what then? His immediate thoughts of being able to get information were quickly forgotten as the image that came into his mind was of Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour. The thought of one of Florean's pastries made his mouth water, and the fries donated earlier had almost been forgotten. 

"Well, here goes nothing," he whispered to himself and reached down for his bag.

As he straightened, he became aware that there were now people standing on either side of him. It was the same manoeuvre tried earlier when his bag was nearly stolen. Gripping on the bag straps, Draco deliberately kept his gaze forward and stepped away from the wall.

On each side, a hand gripped his arms, dragging him back. One of his elbows cracked against the bricks, and he clenched his teeth to stop a cry of pain.

"Well, what have we got here, George?" A hand reached up and pulled at Draco's hood. It fell back to his shoulders.

"Why, it's a Malfoy, Fred. Fancy meeting the Prince of Darkness here, of all places."

Draco glanced to either side. He couldn't fail to recognise that to his left was a Weasley, and on his right was that Weasley's twin.

"You'd better put that hood up again, Malfoy. We wouldn't want anyone recognising you. It wouldn't do our reputations any good at all." Fred let go of the arm that had connected with the wall, and watched as the hood was tugged awkwardly back into place.

"So, who's been a naughty boy then?" George somehow materialised a copy of the Daily Prophet and shoved it at Draco, scrunching it against his chest. "Been using Unforgivable curses without daddy's permission?"

Frowning, Draco took the paper and quickly scanned the front page. What little colour there had been in his face drained completely. 

Under the headline _Minister's wife in Unforgivable Curse attack_ were two photographs, the first of Lucius and Narcissa, and the second, smaller one, a rather unflattering photo of Draco. The article read:

_Last Monday, Narcissa Malfoy, wife of the Minister of Magic and benefactor Lucius Malfoy, was found unconscious at the family home. She had been attacked several times with the Cruciatus Curse and was left for dead. Marcus Flint, Senior Auror, reported: "A wand belonging to the couple's son, Draco, was found at the scene. Tests using the Priori Incantatem spell have shown that this is the wand used to perform this heinous attack on his mother. We have so far been unable to locate Draco Malfoy, but it is believed that he might have suffered a breakdown. Anyone sighting him should contact us immediately. He is considered dangerous and should not be approached." _

_Minster Malfoy was too distressed to talk, but his office has issued a statement confirming that his son has not been well for some time. He urged his son to return home. A spokes wizard for St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries said that Mrs Malfoy is responding well to treatment._

He had to read it a second time before looking at the twins. "I didn't do this." His eyes were huge with shock as he gestured with the newspaper. "I wasn't even there."

"We know, Hedwig told us." George whispered close to his ear.

"You know about the owl?"

"Of course." Hedwig had arrived at the twin's joke shop and had explained about Draco's escape and the newspaper article. She had asked the twins to get him off the streets before Marcus Flint found him. George still found the truth of Hedwig's true identity both weird and wonderful. He remembered with fondness both the first time he had seen her transform and also the realisation that the owl who had shared Harry's life was actually a beautiful woman. It still made him shiver every time he saw her change.

Fred was equally as close on Draco's other side. "But as for you cursing your mother, who would have believed that an unregistered Animagus and a group of subversives were trying to overthrow the whole Wizarding administration? Isn't that what you called us in an article a few months ago?"

"Not exactly. It was taken out of context." Draco was trying desperately to feel sorry for his mother, but somehow he wasn't doing it very well. He did wonder who was responsible and no matter how much he tried to deny it, he knew that it had to be Voldemort. Who else could have gotten hold of his wand and used it so efficiently? 

Draco remembered the way Narcissa had fawned over the Dark Lord and the way Voldemort had looked at her. And he knew the two were sleeping together. Yet, if the article was correct, Voldemort had cursed her several times. Did Voldemort truly care about anyone? Was there nothing he wouldn't do to achieve his aims? Of course, Draco knew that to be the case. Look at what had happened to him. One minute Voldemort was calling him his son. The next he was torturing him just for the hell of it.

And yet, there was still that little dark voice in the back of his mind demanding his loyalty. Leeching into his soul and turning it black.

"Let's just see if we can find the right context then." George snatched the newspaper back and glanced at his brother. "We're attracting attention. I think it's time we moved." Fred nodded.

"If you think I'm going anywhere with..." Draco paused as something pressed into his side. He could tell that it was the tip of a wand. He sneered at Fred. "And just what do you intend to do with that? Poke me to death?" His left hand twitched, ready to retrieve Harry's wand from its holster.

"Oh? Would you like to see how quickly I can turn you into something really nasty?" Fred sneered back. "Oh, just a minute. That would be pointless. You are already nasty!"

"Pack it in." George tugged at Draco's arm. "Would you rather we left you for Flint and his Aurors? It would take me about two minutes to call them."

"Do I have a choice?" Neither answered, and they frog marched him down the street. "This is not the way to Diagon Alley."

"That's because we aren't going there. We're off somewhere where no one will ever think to look for you."

********************

Hedwig fluttered down to the ground and settled beside the large black shaggy dog. Her change back into human form was as smooth as silk, and almost instantly, she laid her small hand on the dog's head, scratching it between the ears.

"Hello, Padfoot. It's been a while since I've seen you in this form."

The dog gave a whimper and settled its head on her thigh. She continued stroking the dog's head for a while.

Padfoot looked up with large baleful eyes and then suddenly rolled onto its back, paws in the air.

"Don't even think about it, Sirius," she chuckled. "I refuse to scratch your tummy. Now, if you don't turn transfigure back, I'll start throwing sticks."

The paws dropped to the ground, and for a moment the dog kept watching her. Then the eyes changed shape slightly as Padfoot reverted to Sirius, but they remained the same pale colour. Sirius lay at her side, his long hair spread across the grass.

"Will you tickle my tummy now?"

Hedwig tilted her head to one side and looked down at him. "What, with Remus and Severus just coming out of the house?" He broke the gaze and shifted slightly to see Remus close the door of Sirius' cottage.

"Damn. I was looking forward to a good tummy rub."

The hand darted out and fingers dug in just above his navel, causing Sirius to jump and let out a surprised, high-pitched squeal. He grabbed at the hand as it continued tickling him and finally managed to pull it away. "That was not fair. I wasn't ready."

"Well, that will teach you to always be prepared won't it?" she whispered, as the two were joined by the newcomers. "Hello boys." She took Snape's outstretched hand and let him help her up.

Sirius stiffened at the gesture, but made no comment as he got to his feet. He quickly brushed the grass from his robes and looked at his visitors -- the grown up branch of the 'Keep Harry Safe' taskforce. "Remus. Severus." He nodded at them and gestured towards a rose covered arbour where despite the lateness of the season, there were still flowers blooming on the bushes.

The four sat on the curved, almost circular, bench with its bewitched cushions that prevented them from getting wet in the rain. There was a long silence before Hedwig finally spoke. Sirius suddenly noticed that her hair was much darker today, the red highlights very prominent. It didn't really surprise him, she'd had almost every conceivable colour in all the years he had known her, from jet black to even an apple green. Today it reminded him of someone else, but he couldn't quite place it.

"Fred and George have met up with Draco."

Remus was fiddling with a chain around his neck. "Is he okay?" 

"Nothing a good meal and a night's sleep won't cure."

"Wasn't it a bit cruel, telling him not to use Harry's wand and leaving him out there to fend for himself?"

She gave a half smile. "No. Look at it as a lesson in self-control. It'll do him some good having to stand on his own two feet for a change. Anyway, he was never really on his own."

"Pity," Sirius mumbled.

"It's not the boy's fault," Snape interjected. "He didn't ask for this anymore than Harry did."

"No, but he's asked for a lot else. Did you see the article in the Daily Prophet? If he could do that to his mother..." Sirius saw Snape's body language change. His back became very straight and his eyes, which had shown nothing, seemed to gleam a little.

"What has he done?" Snape asked.

Sirius had to fight hard not to smile. Oh the joy of getting one over Snape. "Haven't you seen the paper today? Apparently your one-time star pupil is supposed to have used the_ Cruciatus_ curse on his mother and then ran away. Narcissa Malfoy is still in St Mungo's."

"You know Draco didn't do it, Sirius." Hedwig quickly responded. "He was nowhere near the estate when that happened. Assuming, of course, it did actually happen to her. There's no proof."

"Well, he could have done it before you got there."

She pointed a reproachful finger at him. "Now you are being ridiculous. Are you suggesting that he cursed her into unconsciousness and then went to his room and read a book? And then no one found her for another 24 hours? No, this is Lucius' work." 

"I didn't trust Lucius before all this started, and I don't trust his son either." Sirius folded his arms and glared at no one in particular.

"And I didn't come here to waste time arguing over Draco's past actions, nor to deal with your prejudices." Snape got to his feet. He was suddenly very angry with himself. Angry because even after everything the wretched woman had done to him, he still cared.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Severus, get off your bloody high horse and sit down. I know you've always had some misguided notion that people like Malfoy can be redeemed, but this time you are wrong. Malfoy's as evil as his father and if it weren't for this curse, none of us would be interested in him. When this is all over, he will go back to being exactly what he was before -- an obnoxious creep who thinks being a Death Eater is a fashion accessory." Sirius folded his arms, eyes fixed angrily on Snape. "Look, you called this meeting. Say what you have to say and we can all go down to the pub."

Snape didn't sit. Now that the initial shock of hearing something had happened to Narcissa had worn off, he could concentrate on why he wanted to meet with these people. They had never had any real time for him. At least Sirius didn't, just as the ex-Marauder hadn't during their days as students and then in the years that followed. Snape mirrored the other's folded arms and the pair stared angrily at each other. If looks could kill, both Snape and Sirius would be dead. "That's typical of you, isn't it, Black? I still don't understand how you managed to wangle your way into being Deputy Minister. You never act the part. You've gotten through your life without taking anything seriously. It's all one big drunken joke."

"When I need to, I know exactly how to act the part. I also know what is important and what is not." Pale eyes stared angrily into Snape's black eyes. "As for being serious, Snape, I take many, many things seriously. It's just you I don't!"

"You don't take Harry very seriously, do you?" The whispered words were hard and dark, matching the glimmer in Snape's eyes.

"Don't you dare try to score points using him!" Sirius was now trying to get to his feet, his expression murderous at the mere idea that Snape should think that he wasn't doing his very best for his godson. Remus held him down.

"Listen, the pair of you." Remus' quiet voice cut through their angry words. "We promised Albus, remember? We promised each other -- no arguing."

"He started it." Sirius' fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. "Git."

"Shut up, Sirius!" Remus raised his voice several notches and suddenly brandished his wand. "Or so help me, I will hex you." He looked at Snape. "I'll hex both of you." Sirius huffed but recognised the expression on his friend's face and remained silent. Remus was not a person to mess with, especially when he was annoyed. Sirius knew what the Auror was capable of these days and did not care to push him now. "Severus, get on with it."

Snape heard the other's tone, but didn't respond. He just kept his gaze steadily on Sirius. "I wonder if you know where Harry is today." 

"Of course," Sirius answered. "I can check up with Hermione's location charms."

"But you can't tell me right now, this moment, where he is. Or where he was yesterday or the day before. Or who he's with."

"Well, no, not exactly."

"I can tell you, Sirius. He's on his own, wandering about with a curse as deadly as any of the Unforgivable curses hanging over him. He's on his own even though we know Voldemort is targeting him. Do you really think that is wise?" He didn't wait for Sirius to answer. "When I saw him on Sunday, he was ill -- not just tired, but ill. This curse is taking a great toll on him, and what he doesn't need is the added responsibility of his own safety."

"Since when did you care about him?" The sarcastic anger in Sirius' voice cut the air.

_Since he gave me that charmed silver stag, _Snape wanted to say. _Since he rescued me and since I realised my responsibility for the curse. _But he said none of this. "Since_ you_..." The word was almost spat out. "Asked me to check on him. If we can apparate into the lighthouse using coded spells capable of overriding Weasley's ward spells, then what makes you think Voldemort's minions can't do the same? Harry ... and Draco ... should be somewhere safe, such as Hogwarts. If he won't go to Hogwarts, then he needs to be protected with a _Fidelius_ charm and a Secret Keeper."

Remus had slipped off the chain from his neck. A small silver disk, with several rune-like markings, hung from it. "I agree."

"What?" Sirius blustered his descent even though he knew Snape was right. "Harry is okay."

"Of course he is, Sirius, but for how long? We've all been complacent in this." Remus finally put his wand away. "I am not sure that the _Fidelius_ charm is the right one, but we should give him the option of using it. The charm will be ready in a few days. Then once Harry has picked his Secret Keeper..."

"I'll do it," Sirius quickly put in.

"It's up to Harry to choose." Hedwig, who had remained very quiet, finally joined in the debate. "He has to agree to this. We can't force him. I think he is likely to refuse, given the history of _Fidelius_ and his parents. I don't think he would trust it." She touched a hand to Remus' leg. "I asked Remus to prepare a _Coniurtus_ charm as well. It should make it impossible for Voldemort to actually plot a location on Harry..." she met Snape's eyes. "Or Draco. That way we should be able to keep them both out of trouble."

Remus held up the chain, the silver disc catching the light as it spun lazily. "This is the talisman for the charm. It uses magic similar to that used at Hogwarts to make it unplottable. It means that unless Voldemort is actually face-to-face with the wearer, he will not be able to track them. Neville is currently making a second one."

"There is something else." Snape rubbed his hands nervously together. "I have heard from one of my contacts in the Death Eaters." Sirius mumbled something inaudible, and from the look on his face, it wasn't flattering. "Voldemort is planning something for Halloween. My contact did not know what, but he believes that it involves Harry. That is probably why Voldemort hasn't killed either of the boys yet." 

********************

The place where no one would think to look for him was an inconspicuous building off Charing Cross Road. On the outside, there were no signs or any indication of whom the building belonged to or what it was used for. Inside, there was an office, which lead to a storeroom. And that was where Draco now was, standing in the middle of the storeroom with its metal racks of unmarked boxes and the ubiquitous naked light bulb swinging above him.

Draco stood easily, feet slightly apart and arms folded across his chest, watching the backs of the Weasley twins as they searched through his bag and cloak. He was cold without the cloak, but he had no intention of letting them know that. He would also have liked to sit down, but as the only chair seemed to be next to George, standing remained his best option. In truth, it didn't concern him to be on his feet; one of his father's favourite punishments had been to make him stand for hours. "How much longer are you going to be?"

"As long as it takes." Fred glanced over his shoulder before returning to his search of Draco's bag. He and George were checking for location magic and surveillance spells. "Never thought you'd be a person to travel light, Malfoy."

"I didn't have much time to pack. I'd like to get on my way. You know -- places to go, people to see."

George finished his search of the cloak and tossed it back to Draco. "Oh? People and places? Do you know how easy it would be for me to contact Marcus Flint?"

"I didn't ask you to bring me here." Draco wrapped himself back into the travel cloak, pulling it tightly about him.

"Listen, Malfoy, we don't give a toss about you, just remember that." George folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the desk. "But if you'd stepped into Diagon Alley, you'd probably be in Azkaban by now. There were about 30 people waiting there for you."

"Then why stop me? Surely letting me be arrested for that..." Draco pointed at the newspaper lying on the table, "would have gotten me out of your way for good."

Fred mirrored his twin's posture. "Because we care about Harry and we know what you've done to him."

"Me?" Draco's voice rose slightly in anger at the suggestion. "I'm not responsible for any of this." A question flashed through his mind. _How much do they know?_

"No, you're never responsible, are you?" George looked thoughtfully at Draco before crossing to Draco's side, towering over him by a good head. "Never responsible for anything." His hand suddenly shot out, giving the other a gentle push, just enough to knock Draco off balance.

Draco stepped back to regain his balance and allowed the wand to slip down into his hand under cover of the cloak. "I have no argument with you, Weasley."

George shrugged a little, his face hard. "Really? Just think for a moment about my family. We used to be such a happy little family. There was Fred and myself, Charlie who loves his dragons, our little sister Ginny who wanted to be a Medi-Witch, and Ron, of course. You know Ron because you went to Hogwarts with him. We have the most wonderful mother in the whole world, but she's a very sad person now." George's expressive face was now a few inches from Draco's, the older man's red hair hanging loosely down past his shoulders. "And do you know why she's sad? It's because her husband and son are both dead."

"I'm not really in the mood for potted histories at the moment?" 

It was not the right thing to say. George, who normally considered himself a very mild mannered man, shoved Draco back against the metal racking, hard enough to dislodge a couple of boxes. The edge of the racking caught Draco down the length of his spine, and his knees buckled. He grabbed at a metal strut to stop himself from falling, grimacing in pain. Instinctively, he pointed the wand. "Don't..." The single word was hard, almost spat out through the pain. "Touch me," he finished.

Stepping back, George automatically raised his hands. "Okay." He cursed silently, wondering how Malfoy had managed to keep the wand hidden when they searched him. "Why don't you put that down?"

"No. Now, give me my bag and I will just get on my way."

"Fred, give the man his bag." George cast a glance at his twin, a look Draco didn't see passing between them.

Perhaps it was because he was tired, but Draco didn't see George tense or the movement that culminated in a perfect kick. The foot connected with Draco's arm, sending the wand spinning across the room. Draco dived for it, but Fred was already there, kicking it out of his reach. He made to get up, but Fred's hand was on his shoulders, holding him down on his knees.

"Now, that was stupid, wasn't it?"

Draco didn't respond, cross with himself for losing his one piece of protection. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Fred studying the wand, a frown masking his features. Did he know whom it belonged to?

"Where did you get this?"

"It's mine." Draco managed to push off Fred's hand and scrambled back to his feet. He straightened his cloak,

"No it isn't"

"Ask the owl."

"Don't worry, we will." Fred hefted the wand, and for a moment Draco thought he was going to use it. Instead he turned to his brother. "Come on."

George picked up Draco's bag and stared long and hard at Draco. "You are lucky to be alive, Malfoy. It's a shame the same can't be said of my dad and my brother Bill. Why don't you spend some time pondering on your part in their deaths?"

"What?"

"Think about it, Malfoy." He followed his brother, slamming the door behind him.

Draco stared for a moment at the closed door. A part of his mind wondered what on earth the man was talking about; the rest began searching the storeroom, looking for any other way out. What was Mr Weasley's name? He threaded his way through the storage racks, but each ended at a blank wall. Alfred? Andrew? No, it was Arthur ... Arthur Weasley who used to work at the Ministry with Lucius.

Realisation shot through him like an arrow, and he found himself clutching at the shelving. Arthur and Bill Weasley, of course. Bill Weasley had long hair, just like George. He remembered that it had been in a ponytail when they brought him into the room on that night three years ago; a month after Potter had defeated Voldemort.

It had been the first Dark Mark ceremony his father had hosted (of course Draco now realised that it hadn't been his father, but Voldemort). Lucius had wanted something special for that night -- something for the two new Death Eater recruits to do that would prove their commitment to both their late master Voldemort and to their new master Lucius. Death Eaters had caught Arthur and Bill. Arthur because he was a thorn in Lucius' side at the Ministry, and Bill who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Draco remembered being on the dais with his father when the two were tortured with the _Cruciatus_ curse. Then, they were killed with _Avada Kedavra, _one each for the two new Death Eaters to kill to prove their loyalty to their new master.

It had not been an evening Draco cared to remember.

It had been the first time Draco had ever seen someone killed. The first time he had seen either curse used in anger.

********************

"Do you need a hand?"

Ron turned from the kitchen cupboard and grinned at Hermione. "No. It's your day and you are not to do anything. Well, almost nothing. Come here." With his free hand (the other was holding a large box of Rice Krispies) he pulled her towards him and kissed her on the lips. She joined in eagerly, her mouth opening under his as he teased at her lower lip. The tip of her tongue darted out, catching the tip of Ron's, and the box of cereal dropped down onto the worktop, temporarily forgotten.

Finally, Hermione pulled back slightly. "Mmm, you taste of chocolate. It had better not be mine."

Ron leaned away from her and placed his index finger into a bowl of melted chocolate and marshmallows on the stove. "Try this." Hermione opened her mouth, and sucked on the finger, letting the warm mixture dissolve on her tongue. "Krispies cakes. Your favourite -- and my one claim to fame as far as cooking is concerned." The little chocolate cakes made simply of puffed rice cereal mixed into chocolate had always been a childhood favourite of Hermione's, and Ron was more than happy to make the Muggle cakes.

"I hope I've got a proper cake as well."

"Oh, yes," Hermione watched him dip his middle finger into the chocolate, and she licked that clean as well. "Complete with 22 candles."

"Well, at least there won't be anyone else to count them."

"It's going to be a quiet evening, isn't it?" Ron mused. "Mum's sorry she can't make it tonight. Charlie is out in Germany and Ginny is over in Paris. Fred and George had to go to Hogsmeade, and even Neville is away. Shall I go on?"

"No, don't depress me any more than I already am." She put on a mock sad face.

"Well, I will do my best to cheer you up. Just you and me, a bottle of something bubbly to drink and a rug in front of the fire. Shall I go on?" He reached for the box and began to add the cereal to the chocolate.

Hermione watched him, her hand gently trailing up and down his spine. "Oh, I think I could live with that." She kissed him on the cheek. "It would have been nice to have mum and dad here."

"Yeah, perhaps we can organise a trip to France and spend time with them."

"Maybe, when all this stuff with Harry is over."

Ron nodded and sighed. "Mmm." A thoughtful smile slowly grew on his face. "Why don't you go run a nice bath? I've got all this chocolate to get off."

"Now, that does sound like a good idea."

He began dividing the mixture into little paper cases. "I'll be there as soon as I've finished this."

"Rice Krispies can wait, you know?" She gave him a playful wink. 

"What? And ruin something for us to play with later?" Ron was grinning madly to himself as he quickly finished with the cakes, licking the spoon clean.

She blew him a kiss and headed for the door. As she reached it, the chimes of the doorbell sounded. "I hope you haven't planned a surprise party, Ronald Weasley!"

"Would I do that? Check who it is before you open the door."

Hermione reached for her wand and pointed it at the door, intoning a quiet incantation. The door seemed to become invisible and she was able to see who was standing on the step. "It's Harry," she called, surprise in her voice. "Is this the surprise? I didn't think he knew where we lived."

"I gave him the address the last time we met, but this is a surprise to me as well. I didn't think he would even remember your birthday." Ron gave an exaggerated sighed. "Bang goes the chocolate crunchy wrestling match. Are you going to let him in?"

As he spoke, all hell broke loose. The ward spells around the house suddenly burst into life, filling the kitchen with prisms of coloured light from the protection crystals. "What the..."

Hermione's eyes became wide as she noted the colours and realised what they represented. "Dark magic." She sprinted for the front door and yanked it open. Harry started to speak but didn't manage to say anything as he was dragged into the house. She slammed the door closed, locking it with a new spell before bundling the visitor into the lounge.

"I..." Harry managed one word.

"Shut up and don't move." She slammed the door closed and intoned a protection spell to seal the room. "Ron..."

"My wand. It's up in the bedroom." He didn't exactly panic, but he started searching for a weapon of some sort. The spoon clattered to the worktop and he grabbed a carving knife from the drawer.

"Here, see what you can get from this." She tossed her own wand at him and he caught it deftly with his right hand. "Where are the intruders?"

"In the back garden." Wand pointing in the direction of the garden, Ron closed his eyes, his forehead furrowed in concentration as he used his inner senses to pick up what was going on outside. "Okay, I've got them. There are three people. Wait." His eyes opened in surprise. "That's weird." He looked down at the wand as though both it and his abilities as a seer were lying. "I'm picking up Fred and George."

"Are you sure? What about the dark magic? The wards are definitely showing dark magic."

"Don't know. Can you get my wand?" She nodded and disappeared towards the stairs. Ron turned to the door leading from the kitchen to the back garden, and waited. He tightened his grip on both Hermione's wand and the knife as the door opened.

He lowered both wand and knife as he saw his two brothers. "Bloody hell!" Ron let out a huge sigh of relief.

"Surprise, surprise." George did not smile as he sauntered into the room.

"You are not joking. You nearly gave me a heart attack, and you've set off every alarm in the place."

"Sorry about that." Fred did not smile either. He remained by the door, still outside.

"What are you doing here? I thought both of you were going up to Hogsmeade."

"We had to cancel our trip, so we thought we'd come for dinner after all." Fred answered. "Maybe you should set some extra spaces because we've got another guest for you." He leaned to the left and grabbed at something, pulling it into view.

Draco Malfoy offered no resistance. Stopping on the threshold, he saw the sparkle of a barrier, which George had passed through without any problem. He stood there, his eyes raking slowly around the doorframe before finally meeting Ron's incredulous gaze. "Evening, Weasley. Nice place you have here." He reached out a finger and touched the barrier that prevented him from entering. "I'm not a vampire, you know. You can let me in."

Ron gulped, and then pointed the knife at Draco. "What is he doing here?" Each word was punctuated with rancour, but the word 'he' sounded like he was talking about something he'd picked up on his shoe.

"Well," George had crossed the room and was now standing beside his younger brother. "You probably won't believe this, but Hedwig asked us to collect 'him'." More stuff on shoes.

"And 'he'," Fred joined in, from his place behind Draco, "wants to see Harry."

"Excuse me, but I am here," Draco retorted.

"Hedwig?" Ron ignored the comment. "She's back?"

George leaned close, whispering in his brother's ear. "Apparently she went and got him out of Malfoy Manor."

"Why bring him here?"

"Hedwig suggested it." Fred folded his arms across his chest. "Are you going to let him in?"

Ron appeared to consider his options for a moment before pointing the wand at the doorway. He left the barrier in place. "Do you know what that is, Malfoy? It detects dark magic and won't let it through. Try anything in here and a dozen defence spells will take you out. Understand?" Draco shrugged. "I. Said. Do. You. Understand?" Each word was punctuated as though he was talking to an idiot.

"I. Understand." Draco's voice mirrored the other's tone exactly. 

The barrier disappeared and with the help of Fred's hand in the small of his back, Draco entered the kitchen. Fred walked past and joined his two brothers.

********************

It had taken Hermione several minutes to find Ron's wand, and by the time she had gotten back down the stairs, the twins had arrived. She witnessed the rest of the exchange from the doorway and was as shocked as Ron to see Malfoy. She debated whether to intercede, but in the end decided that it would be prudent to leave them to their own devices, at least for the time being.

After all, she had Harry to deal with.

He was pacing the lounge when she opened the door, using Ron's wand to take down the spells. "Harry," she smiled.

"Hermione." He was at her side in two strides. "What is going on? I couldn't get out."

"Ah." She took a calming breath. "Something set off all our ward spells just as you arrived."

"Is everything okay?" He gripped her shoulder. "Are you all right? ... And Ron?"

"Oh, I think it will be okay in a minute." She wanted to add 'if Ron doesn't kill Malfoy', but decided that this wasn't the right time. "This room has some additional protection. It's something I discovered based on the same magic as the _Fidelius_ charm. If someone using dark magic came in here, they wouldn't have seen you." 

"Then why couldn't I get out?"

She smiled. "Simple, I locked the door as well. _Alohomora_ would have worked on it. Remember -- _Standard Book of Spells_, chapter seven?"

"Oh." Harry smiled. The reference brought back a torrent of memories, hidden for so many years. "What set off the wards?"

She knew he would find out soon enough. "It's Fred and George." 

"They set them off? Doesn't Ron like them anymore?"

"They've got Draco Malfoy with them."

"Malfoy? Here?" She nodded and watched as Harry looked heavenward and mouthed 'thank you' to some unseen deity. "Is he okay?"

"He looked alright. Harry, you are acting as though you're expecting him."

He nodded. "Well, sort of, but not necessarily here. We -- Sirius, Hedwig and me -- decided to rescue him from Malfoy Manor. Hedwig told me he'd gotten out, but I wasn't sure what had happened to him since then. And I haven't seen her since Monday." He saw surprise register on her face. "Hedwig was my owl, remember? She's actually an..."

"An Animagus."

"You know?" It was Harry's turn to look surprised.

"Of course. It was a bit of a shock when I first found out, but I've known for a couple of years."

"Oh. I was going to tell Ron and you this evening. About her and Draco." He moved towards the door.

"Just a moment." Hermione put both her hands on his chest, stopping him in his tracks. "First, I think Ron and the twins need to talk to Malfoy alone for a moment."

"Why?"

"You don't know, do you?" A hand went to her mouth. "About what happened to Bill and Arthur just after you left?"

"I know they are dead. Sirius told me."

"Did he tell you what happened? And why Ron hates Malfoy so much?" 

"I thought it was because of school, then the war and everything. We all needed someone to blame. I thought it was just that."

"No. It's more. Arthur and Bill were caught by a group of Death Eaters. Ron tried to rescue them. He saw both of them tortured and killed. Malfoy was there with his father when it happened."

"Did he do it? Did Draco kill them?"

"No. But he was as close to them as you and I are now. Ron has always thought that Malfoy could have stopped it."

Harry dropped to a seat and for a moment sat with his head in his hands. "Now it all makes sense." He pulled at his hair, causing the curls to stand up untidily, and looked at her. "Now I see why he's been so angry. It's not just me he's mad at, is it?"

"Oh, believe me, there's a lot of anger there as well. But when he found out Malfoy was the trigger for this curse thing Lucius Malfoy used on you, it almost killed him. He's scared, Harry, scared that Malfoy is going to take you away as well."

********************

Draco stood by the now closed door, arms by his side, fists clenched. "I need to talk to Potter."

No one took any notice of him, instead the three bothers were huddled together, Fred whispering something to the other two. At one point, George took a wand from his robes and showed it to Ron, gesturing in Draco's direction.

Draco recognised the wand as Harry's. "Excuse me." They kept talking. "I said excuse me!"

Ron looked over at Draco, his eyes dripping malice. "Shut up. Or I will turn you into a ferret."

"Don't threaten me, Weasley." Draco strode forward several paces and stopped as three, actually make that four, wands were pointed in his direction. "Okay." He did the only thing he could do, which was to step back.

Ron finally closed the gap between them. He had put down Hermione's wand and now held the one George had given him in his right hand. "This is Harry's wand."

"Correct." No point in lying, Draco decided

"What are you doing with it?"

"Why don't you ask him?" Draco couldn't decide what worried him more, the wands or the knife still clutched in Ron's hand. He cast a surreptitious glance towards the wand on the table, and wondered whether he could get it before the three brothers hexed him. As for the knife, normally Muggle weapons didn't worry him, but he had no other protection at the moment, and the last thing he wanted was to end up bleeding all over the floor. "The owl gave it to me. Now, I've asked nicely and I will ask again. I need to talk to Potter now." 

It was at that instant Hermione took the spells off the lounge and Draco tried not to gasp out loud. Harry was here, in the same building as he was, just a few feet away! The sensation through the curse link was so strong, he thought for a moment that he might pass out.

"How dare you come into my home and demand anything! You arrogant git."

"Name calling doesn't suit someone of your age, Weasley. Leave it for the corridors at Hogwarts." The response was automatic. Draco was concentrating on the link and not Ron. The initial impact had lessened now, but he could still feel it, similar to his link with Voldemort. Would Harry be aware of this? Could he 'hear' him if Draco called? He tested the hypothesis, but there was nothing. Perhaps, he considered, this worked in only one direction.

Suddenly aware of movement, Draco looked up to find Ron was now at his side. He met the other's blue eyes and was shocked by the depth of hatred he saw in them. The look caused a grip of ice to twist in his gut and he remembered the same sensation being triggered by something else ... by someone else.

Ron paused in front of Malfoy, watching him for a moment. With deliberate slowness, he switched Harry's wand to the hand still holding the knife. Then his right hand shot out, and he backhanded Draco across the face.

Completely unprepared, Draco didn't even have a chance to steady himself. He staggered sideways, grabbed for support, but missed the chair and fell over it. Crashing to the floor, his head connected with the tiles with an audible crack. He gasped as white-hot pain shot through his skull, zigzagging across his brain and making stars dance before his eyes. He grabbed at his head, trying to hold it still as he curled up on the floor.

"I am going to thrash you within an inch of your worthless life." Ron stepped over the prone figure.

"You..." Draco sucked in air as his eyes watered from the pain, and he managed to raise himself on one elbow. "...And whose army?" He regretted the retort the moment he made it as the twins stepped forward. "Oh, yeah, that army. Weasley, I don't have time for this." 

"You don't have time?" The gentle kick at Draco's shoe belied Ron's growing anger, livid spots of red marking his cheeks. "You killed my dad and my brother and you haven't got time?" The next kick was harder.

"I did not kill them," Draco panted, still trying to breath through the pain radiating through his head with a throbbing intensity. It felt like his skull had been cracked in two. His own foot intercepted Ron's third kick, stopping it from reaching its target. "I was there that night, but I didn't do anything." Draco scooted away from Ron on his backside and tried to get up. Ron's foot caught behind his ankle and jerked the leg up, dropping him back onto the ground with a thud. The pain in his head fractured again with red lightning, and he gritted his teeth.

"And that, my friend, is the problem. You did nothing, which makes you responsible by default." Ron pointed the wand at the fallen man. "I am going to start with the _Standard Book of Spells_ grade 1 and work my way through to grade 7. And you are going to experience every single curse I can find."

Draco went very still for a moment. His head swam with pain, the side of his face burned from Ron's slap and he could taste blood from a cut lip. "If you curse me, Potter gets to feel it as well." His feet suddenly shot out, ankles linking around Ron's shin, and Draco twisted it over.

Ron went flying, knife and wand spilling from his hands across the floor. The edge of the table caught his side, and he staggered back against a cupboard and onto the floor. Both men scrambled towards the fallen weapons, Draco reaching Harry's wand first. Fingers curled around the handle, nails scraping across the tiles, and he made to pick it up.

The foot that stomped down on Draco's wrist belonged to one of the twins, but he didn't know which, because the other had placed a foot between his shoulder blades, effectively pinning him to the floor. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Ron retrieve the knife and start towards him. He managed to flex the wand round, pointing it across the floor. The curse from his lips was simple, _"Aversus,"_ and it blasted Ron backwards across the room. Ron hit the wall with an audible grunt, a noise suddenly matched by Draco as the foot, which had been on his wrist, crushed down on his fingers. The wand was wrenched from his broken grasp.

Draco met Ron's eyes again and finally he remembered what had triggered the growing knot of fear, which still tightened inside him. The face before him shimmered and in place of eyes full of blue ice, he saw the grey of his father's eyes. Draco felt his mouth go dry as his memory dragged him back in time.

He was 11, had just arrived home from his first year at Hogwarts clutching an excellent report in his hand. But Hermione Granger had been named as top student in his year, not him. His best wasn't good enough. The punishment had lasted hours, and he had tried so hard not to cry ... to remain silent as was expected. Then when he had thought it was all over, when there didn't seem an inch of him not bruised or cut, his father had used THE spell. The Dark magic brought with the Malfoy family from France all those generations ago when they had escaped the Persecutions. _Douleur Encore._ The curse took away all his injuries, but as they were removed he had experienced the pain from each one again. And all the time he could see his father watching him, intoning those so familiar tirades of "You make me do this. If you did as you were told this would not happen. You are so weak, but I will correct that. You aren't worthy to be a Malfoy." 

The rage in Ron Weasley's blue eyes was full of hot-tempered aggression. The rage in his father's grey eyes was cold and full of self-controlled bitterness. Both looks were so different, but both had the same effect, they dug into the knot of ice in his stomach, freezing him into stillness, and as Ron's hand closed back around the knife handle, Draco realised he was trembling with dread.

Ron crawled across the floor on his hands and knees, his eyes never wavering from Draco's face as he came closer. He was almost down at Draco's level as he reached the other's side and he slid the tip of the knife under Draco's chin. "Okay." Ron hissed. "Then let's do this Muggle style." He flicked the tip of the knife along Draco's chin just hard enough to draw a drop of blood "What shall we start with? The fingers or the toes?"

The pressure suddenly came off Draco's back, and he realised that the foot had been removed. He tried to move back, but his hand was still effectively trapped, and for the first time, he managed to look upward. The foot belonged to Fred, and the twin was smiling down at him, a cold hard smile. The twin's eyes broke contact, looking at something behind Draco. His free arm was grabbed, pulling him over onto this back and twisting the trapped hand at an awkward angle. 

The fist that caught Draco in the stomach knocked the wind out of him. As it hit him, the twins finally released him, leaving him curled up, clutching his solar plexus. Draco gagged on the pain, trying hard to move, to get anywhere, away from these people. But before Draco could move further, Ron was back on his feet, standing over him again.

Ron lifted a foot and pressed it down hard on the other's right thigh. "Did you hear them beg, Malfoy? Did you hear my father beg for my brother's life?" He twisted his foot, grinding the hard tread of his shoe into Draco's flesh; grinding 10 years of hatred into the punishing movement. Hatred, which had started with a single comment of 'My father told me all the Weasleys had red hair, freckles and more children than they can afford' on the Hogwarts Express, and grew with each additional jibe and retort. Loathing, which had matured through the deaths of his father and brother, which still swamped him right up to this very moment, because Ron saw the person at his feet as being a dangerous threat to his friend Harry.

Draco's hands went round Ron's ankle and he tried to stop the moment. "If you were there, then you would have known what happened. I didn't do it." The repeated words caught in his throat as the foot's movement twisted into the muscle, and Draco felt stickiness on his skin. Ron had drawn blood.

"Like I said, you did nothing. Up there standing next to your precious father with that insufferable smirk on your face." Ron's voice became very quiet as he looked down at the man at his feet. The knife swung dangerously above Draco's chest, held only by Ron's thumb and forefinger. But Draco's gaze wasn't on the knife; it was fixed on Ron's face... Ron's eyes... his father's eyes.

Ron's whole demeanour was full of measured darkness, and for the first time in those 10 years he saw fear on Draco Malfoy's face. "Do you know what was the worst thing, Malfoy? Even worse then losing them to filth like you? You didn't even let us have their bodies back." Ron dragged his foot hard off Draco's leg, and he was finally rewarded with a cry of pain from his enemy. Draco tried to stop the yelp, but the agonizing sound caught in his throat on a gasping cry. "You fucking bastard." Ron's foot kicked out at the fallen man's side, catching him just below the ribs. "What. Did. You. Fucking. Do. With. Them?"

Draco tried to count the blows, one for each word. He curled up again, trying to protect himself, but that just gave Ron more of his right side to attack. His foot caught Draco where Voldemort had kicked him nine days ago, where his body was still tender. One landed on his hip, another across the injured thigh. His knee. His shin. His side again. Hard enough to lift him from the ground.

He tried not to tense, grateful for the fact that he still had his cloak on, the thick material taking some of the punishment. But for a moment, he really thought he was going to die.

"RON!"

Ron stopped, his foot ready for another kick, and turned to the new, female voice. "Stay out of this, Hermione."

"No! Just stop this right now." Hermione crossed quickly to Ron's side and dragged him away. She stared hard at her boyfriend, shocked at his actions. Almost unable to accept that the kind and gentle person she knew could have been so violent. "What on earth do you think you are doing? And give me that." She reached for the knife, putting it out of harm's way. "As for you two," she continued, taking in Fred and George in her all encompassing gaze, equally as aghast that these two actually let Ron carry out such treatment. "Why didn't you stop him?"

Fred shrugged. "We were about to join in again."

"But now you've stopped the fun." George did his best to look crestfallen.

Her eyes finally fixed on Draco, and for a moment she wasn't sure how to deal with him. There was a part of her that would just have loved to slap Malfoy around the face as she had done many years ago, but the trainee Medi-Witch that she was knew she had to help him. "Come on. Get up." She held out a hand, helping him up.

The effort to stand was almost too much, but Draco finally made it to his feet. "I need to see Potter." He took a breath, and the Malfoy mask dropped effortlessly back into place. "Oh, and do you have anything for a headache?" Draco grimaced as he prodded the back of his head tenderly. His hand touched wetness and when he looked, there was blood on his fingers.

"You..." Ron stepped forward, hand reaching for the wand he had dropped on the table earlier.

"Stop it!" Hermione moved between the two. "Ron, give me that as well." She held out a hand for the wand. "It's mine, give it to me." After a moment's hesitation, he passed it to her.

He saw that she was holding his own wand. "And that's mind! Give it to me."

"No. Not while you are being such an insufferable child. Now, get over there with Fred and George."

"I'm pleased that someone's in control here."

She turned on Malfoy. "And you can shut up as well." The commanding voice silenced any further remarks from him. "Sit down." 

Draco sat as though ordered by his father, grateful not to have to stand any longer. He wasn't sure how long he could remain on his feet anyway. The whole of his right side, from ribs to ankle, was hurt, and he was worried that his knee might give way. There was a trickle of blood running from where Ron had grounded his leg to pulp. As for his head, he didn't really want to consider the damage there.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regain some measure of control over the pain. They flashed open again as a hand touched his shoulder, and he instinctively flinched back, waiting for another blow. It never came. Instead, a gentle hand touched his face.

Hermione cast a practiced eye over the vivid red slap mark on Malfoy's face, which was rapidly turning into a black eye. He also had a cut lip, the blood drying in a trickle down his chin. "Hmm," she murmured, turning his head to the left a little to check out the back of his head. There was a growing red lump under the blond hair, which was streaked with blood. As she let go, the collar of his shirt fell away from his neck, and Hermione glanced down, the light catching on his skin, illuminating something that caused an intake of breathe. Her fingers pulled the collar back, and she saw the lightning bolt scar.

Draco's eyes darted to Hermione, black pupils almost obscuring the grey. He saw the astonishment in her eyes and the frown of an unspoken question. He swallowed and pulled the shirt so that the scar was covered.

Hermione held his gaze for a moment, then crossed to a cupboard and took out her small medical kit. She carefully applied a healing salve to the injury on Draco's head. "You'll live," was all she said. 

"Now, can I see Potter? I know he's here." The link between Harry and himself drifted just at the edge of his consciousness, not quite reality and not yet fantasy.

"Malfoy, Harry is..." Hermione started.

"He isn't here." Ron's rebuttal came quickly and he grabbed at Hermione, his face urging her to keep silent. How the hell did Malfoy know Harry was here? He glanced at his brothers, whose questioning looks were asking if Malfoy was right. This was not good. What if Malfoy was spying for his father? What if the moment Harry's presence became common knowledge, the place became full of Death Eaters? "Hermione, don't listen to him. This is all a big trick."

"No it isn't, Weasley. If it was a trap, I'd hardly have came in through the front door." Draco shrugged, "Or in this case, the back door."

"You arrogant bastard."

"Ron!"

"I'll talk to him."

The quiet voice made everybody jump. Harry stepped out of the shadows where he had been watching since he and Hermione had heard Draco's cry. He stood for a moment, eyes resting calmly on Draco's face. "You made it then."

--------------------

Read? Review! 

**Next chapter:** **_When Harry met Draco..._** Finally, at last Harry and Draco met face-to-face. Loads of angst for everyone.

The _Douleur Encore_ was invented by Ginzai who has kindly let me use it to torture Draco just that little bit more.

**Author's Notes: **

Thanks to the best beta crew in the world without whom this story would be a much poorer thing: _Josie, _for picking up my mistakes. _Thursday, _my resident Snape expert. _Ashleigh, _my rock who never seems to tire of my pitiful emails and always has something constructive to say. _Ginzai, _whom I am now convinced is a mind reader and my Draco expert.

A special welcome to new girl on the block **_Lynn._** I hope she realises what she has let herself in for.

Special thanks to _Holly, _for noticing that the wording on The Leaky Cauldron sign in the HP film appeared and disappeared. It wasn't until the third time I saw the film that I noticed.

Thanks to all who have recently reviewed. If I have missed your name from this list, sorry. Every review is read and appreciated. sird0rcascad0gan, RubyTuesday49, Celesta, AVK aka Anastasia, Lynn Rowen, Thieving Magpie, Aravis Black, Britters, JessieAnnPotter, Lily Vance, Antigone, Jive, Sardius-Sky, Lily Evans, The Jade Princess, Rachel, Snowlily, Mouse, clara, MeDeA, Andrea Potter, FernWithy, Who Knows, nacho, Sophie W., Ice Queen, Leandra, Brina, vmr

Reviews are always welcome, either here on the FictionAlley Board (click on review), to me at frances@forever.u-net.com or at the Yahoo group for this story. All up and coming chapters will be posted there first. Click HERE to sign up for http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HP_comingofage 

If you would like notification of when chapters are posted, please email me at the following and I will add you to the list: frances_potter@schnoogle.com

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And finally, a bit of indulgent self-publicity! Coming to a website near you very soon -- a NEW STORY RESOLUTION 

res·o·lu·tion, noun -- solving of doubts, problems, questions etc. _The Concise Oxford Dictionary_

A series of vignettes (interspersed with Harry's Journals) chronicling Harry's final six months at Hogwarts. Exams, friends, lovers, Quidditch, the war and Draco all conspire to make graduation seem a very long way away. Slash (Harry/Draco)

**Month 1 -- New Year Eve: **When Draco decides to go skiing, he doesn't plan on spending the night away from Hogwarts, but then it starts snowing again. Meanwhile, Harry wants nothing but a quiet new year on his own.

**Rating:** PG, Slash overtones. Forecast: Slash becoming stronger, possibly PG13!

**Available on Schnoogle **and** HP_comingofage soon.**


	10. When Harry met Draco...

**Title: Coming of Age: Chapter 10 -- When Harry met Draco... (10/?)**

**Author name:** Frances Potter

**Author email: **frances@forever.u-net.com

**Category:** Just about everything: Angst/Darkfic, Mystery, a little Action/Adventure, some Romance.

**Keywords:** Harry, Draco, Ron, Hermione, Hedwig, Lucius and Voldemort.

**Spoilers:** All books

**Rating:** PG-13 (UK rating 12). (Non-explicit adult themes, bad language, mental distress, violence)

**Summary:** Harry Potter thinks he has finally defeated Voldemort. But the battle has taken its toll and he decides to leave the Wizarding world for good. Three years later, the Dark Lord has a 21st birthday present for the Boy Who Lived, and it involves Draco Malfoy. Can the two overcome their past differences and work together before Voldemort destroys them both?

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Dedication:** This chapter is dedicated to **_Kovack_**, my beloved cat who died on 6th January 2002. He made a very brief cameo in Chapter 6 as Crookshanks' friend. Both Thomas, his brother, and I miss him very much

What you need to know...

Check out the beginning of Chapter 9 for a quick rundown of events so far! Hedwig has helped Draco escape from Malfoy Manor. He is picked up on the streets of London by Fred and George and taken to Ron's house. Ron, who blames Draco for the deaths of Arthur and Bill, is not very pleased to see Draco and he takes great delight in beating him up. Hermione only stops him from doing the ex-Slytherin serious damage. Chapter Ten follows on directly from the previous chapter... 

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Every day you crawl into the night A fallen angel with your wings set alight When you hit the ground Everything turns to blue I can't get through the smoke that's surrounding you Cos when you're falling I can't tell which way is down And when you're screaming Somehow I don't hear a sound And when your seeing things Then your feet don't touch the ground Cos when you're falling I can't tell which way is down 

-- _When You're Falling_ -- Afrocelt Sound System

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Coming of Age Chapter Ten -- When Harry met Draco... 

Lucius Malfoy was aware of everything that happened around him. 

Aware of his own breath and the beat of his heart, and of the sensation of the clothes on his skin.

He could feel the pressure of his fingers on the quill in his hand. See the sheet of parchment on the desk. Read the words the quill was making. Even sense the irritation of an itch on the back of his hand.

But Lucius could do nothing about it.

He had no control over the fingers that scratched briefly at the irritation. He was trapped within his own body, a body that was controlled by a force greater than even he could overpower.

From within his prison, Lucius could feel the being that was Voldemort. It was this man's consciousness, this other personality, which controlled the physical skin and bones, using it to fulfil his own desires for power and control over life and death. And by learning how to possess and live like a parasite in another's body, Voldemort had finally found an answer to his desire for immortality. 

Lucius put out a testing thought towards the hand holding the quill. Sometimes, if he tried very hard, and if Voldemort was distracted, he could regain a measure of control. Could cause the clench of a muscle, the flick of a finger. But such defiance was always punished.

As it was now.

He felt an invisible hand squeeze at his equally invisible throat. He might have been without form, but the sensations of pain were the same as before. Voldemort could cause him to feel such terrible pain if he so wanted.

"Be a good boy, Lucius, or I will never let you free."

Fading into the background of his own consciousness, Lucius felt himself shiver again. Sometimes he thought he shivered out of fear. Or perhaps it was the effects of the powerful Dark magic that held him trapped here in the darkness of his own mind.

When the Dark Lord had asked him all those years ago for the use of his body, Lucius had been horrified. That he should allow anyone such intimate control was an abomination. But Voldemort was his Master. His Lord. And he had already sworn to follow him to the ends of the earth. Had already gifted Voldemort the life of his own son. 

"Surely," Voldemort had questioned. "You can do this one small thing for me?"

The plan had been simple. Get the Potter boy to trap Dumbledore in a cave of living crystal where the old man's powers would be useless. But they needed bait to trick the enemy, and what better than the Dark Lord's own resurrected snake-like body? They had used the empty animated husk as the lure, and it had worked to perfection. The one wizard powerful enough to destroy the Dark Lord was forever imprisoned at the side of that empty husk.

"And afterwards, Master?" Lucius had asked. "Where will you house yourself once your body is no more?"

"Why, Lucius, where do you think? In that charming son of yours. Where else?"

But Lucius Malfoy had power of his own. He controlled a vast empire within the Wizarding world, and it had taken Voldemort mere days to realise the potential of keeping this older body with its network of contacts, rather than using the younger one.

Draco's turn would come later, Lucius was sure of that now. Once Voldemort had worn out the flesh of his present host, he would move on to Draco, then another and another....

Immortality by being a parasite, devouring the souls of his victims and feasting off their very life essence.

How could you destroy a being with that power? With that ability? 

"Don't even _think_ about destroying me, Lucius," the voice echoed in his mind. "Why should you care about your son now after all the things you have done to him in the past?"

"Because he is my son."

"Remember I know your thoughts, Lucius. All of them. You enjoyed your treatment of him."

"I was trying to make him better than what he was. Trying to teach him. If he had done as he was told, it would not have happened."

"Oh course, Lucius." The voice was derisive. "You only ever did it for the boy's own good."

_I'll talk to him._

The words echoed through the two separate, but joined minds, silencing them as they both realised who had spoken them. Lucius gasped at the new presence. "Potter."

The responding chuckle was dark, full of vengeance. "Oh yes, Lucius. Our boy has finally found him. Can you sense how close Potter is to him? All Draco has to do is reach out and he could touch him." 

"Yes. Yes, I can feel him."

"Can you sense the power in him, Lucius? Can you imagine what it would be like to have that power coursing though your veins?"

"Yes." The voice was a whisper.

"I have a gift for you, Lucius. When this is over, you can have him. You can have that fresh powerful young body."

"But I don't have the ability to take over another form."

"Fool, Lucius. I can do that for you. In payment for the years I have used this form."

"But you will take all his powers. What will be left for me?"

"A new life, Lucius. A new young life instead of this old body? And don't worry, I will leave some of his power for you."

"Will he know? Will Potter still be there?"

"Oh, of course, just as you are now here with me. And I will have Draco. Imagine it Lucius. Together and with that joint power we can rule the world."

"And Draco? Will he know? Will he still be there -- his mind in that body?"

"Yes."

A dark thought slowly manifested itself within Lucius mind. The ultimate punishment for a wayward son who would never, ever listen. "Then let me have him. Let me have Draco."

********************

"I'll talk to him."

The quiet voice made everybody jump. Harry stepped out of the shadows where he had been watching the confrontation since he and Hermione had heard Draco's cry. He stood for a moment, eyes resting calmly on Draco's face. "You made it then."

Draco stood, favouring his right leg. "No thanks to that bloody owl of yours."

"Well, she has got a strange sense of humour. Probably something to do with being stuck in a cage for long periods." Head slightly to one side, Harry studied the man in front of him for the first time in over four years. October 1997. Even then, during that contact in the stone corridors under the Slytherin School, Harry had only seen him briefly. Hands grabbing him, pulling him up from the rock face where he clung precariously. Brief eye-to-eye contact, then Draco was gone in the darkness. Rescued by his enemy.

And, of course, there had been the last visit to Draco's safe haven; the cloud illusion Draco had created as a child to go to when he felt threatened or in danger. The only impression Harry had been left with from that contact was that Draco seemed tall.

Except in reality Draco wasn't. He was only an inch or two taller than Harry, and his build was probably slimmer under the floor-length travel-stained cloak, which now dragged back over one shoulder, revealing black jeans and a shirt. Draco still had the body of a Seeker -- small and trim.

The face that watched him had matured and the shadow of beard growth marked the pale skin of his face. But somehow even that and the dark stain of a black eye didn't detract from the fact that Draco still looked like an angel. All pale skin and hair flopping lazily around his face, its tangled strands only adding to the impression. 

As if he knew what Harry was thinking, Draco raised a hand and long, slim fingers pushed through the blond hair, pushing it back from his face.

Harry was reminded of Petunia cooing over baby pictures of Dudley, calling him her little angel. And there had been a chubby cherub quality about baby Dudley -- a bit like a Renaissance painting. Fortunately, or unfortunately, that had disappeared, as Dudley got older.

But Angel Draco was as far removed from one of those cherubs as one could be. From his pale flawless skin, to the prominent cheekbones and dusky, pale grey eyes, there was the classic innocence of a Christmas card angel, all sweetness and light. Endearing.

But just underneath, there was Ron's Prince of Darkness, swooping down on wings of fire ready to devour and destroy.

Harry saw that Draco was mirroring his posture, even down to the slight tilt of the head. Classic good and evil, Harry thought, twisted here because he was the dark-haired one and Draco the white. Opposite to the old westerns Harry had taken to watching on satellite where the good guy always wore the white hat and the villain the black.

"I think we need to talk," Harry finally said. Green eyes stared lightly into grey. Draco held his gaze.

"Not here. In private." The words were demanding.

"Why should I do that when I don't trust you here with all these good people around me?"

"Because of the curse. Because I know what happened to your scar in that nice little car of yours." The green eyes showed no emotion, they just held him in their steady gaze. _Voldemort is right,_ Draco decided, _I can feel the power, and, boy, is it strong._ "And because of this." He pulled down his collar, revealing his own lightning bolt scar. "A present from one of our favourite people." 

Harry gave a knowing look, and picked up his wand from where Ron had dropped it. "Okay." He gestured for Draco to follow him outside. 

"Harry!" Ron was clearly agitated by the way events were progressing.

"It's okay, Ron. If he tries anything, you have my personal blessing to rip his arms off and use them as Bludger bats."

Harry then did something that made everyone in the room gasp.

Harry held out his wand to Draco.

For a moment, Draco just stared at it, his forehead knotted in confusion. Then, very slowly, he reached out and his hand closed around the now familiar shaft. He felt the same surge of energy that had assaulted his senses the first time he had used the wand, and it caused his breath to catch in his throat.

He looked back from the wand at Harry to ask why he had given it to him, but all he saw was the other's back as Harry headed for the door. Draco watched the perfect target and felt a rush of adrenaline as the tiny voice in his mind whispered, _Go on. Take down the ward spells. Take him now. Bring him back to your Master. _

Eyelids closed, he swallowed, trying to bite back the compulsion to act. He was aware of the other wands in the room, that the other occupants were pointing them at him. How fast could he disable them? Did he want to? The voice hissed _Yes, _and with a rising feeling of panic, Draco fled outside.

Harry was waiting for him on the patio, beside a round wrought iron table.

Draco flung the wand down. "What did you do that for?" His voice hissed with anger.

"Do what?"

"Give me the fucking wand. I could have done anything." Draco was hurt physically from the beatings and now mentally from the mocking voice in his mind, dragging him down deeper and deeper into the suffocating mire of confusion. He raised a hand to his forehead and realised that it was shaking.

"But you didn't."

"What?"

"You didn't do anything. You could have, but you didn't. You dealt with it."

"Probably because of the other wands pointed at me."

Harry noticed a change in Draco's tone. He now sounded like the boy Harry remembered from Hogwarts, his voice a mocking drawl. "Is it hard?" Draco didn't respond, but simply raised a sardonic eyebrow. 

"Sometimes I can pick up emotions from you." Harry continued. "It was more noticeable when I was on the cloud -- your secret place, but I can feel it now." He waited for a response, but none was forthcoming. "It's there, in your mind now, Malfoy, trying to control you, make you do things you don't want to. I picked it up the moment I came into the kitchen. Ron was lucky. If you'd given in to it, if you'd let it control you, he would be dead now.

"The wand was to show that you could deal with this. You can cope with what your father is doing to you." Harry felt it now, pricking at his own mind. It was difficult to describe the manifestation of power it brought, but he felt like it gave him the potential to destroy something, not out of fear but out of malice and with no sense of guilt about doing so. It gnawed into his psyche, as it did with Draco, threatening to overwhelm him given the opportunity.

"I don't need your bloody sympathy, Potter," Draco sat down before his legs gave way. He wanted to reach out for help, but years of indoctrination prevented him from doing so. _Malfoys never ask for help. _That had been drummed into him from the moment he had been old enough to understand. To admit to Harry that he needed him, to admit to the person who had been his enemy for ten years, was anathema to him.

"Have it your way." Harry stepped to the table.

Behind him, the sun was setting, and for a moment Draco saw it halo around Harry's head, causing the dark hair to flare with streaks of gold. The image disappeared as Harry sat down, and Draco pulled his cloak tighter. He realised he was shivering, but knew it was not from the cold. Normally he would have found the late September autumnal chill refreshing, but today something else chilled him to the bones.

Harry, dressed only in a loose fitting shirt and jeans, watched him. Just as he was aware of the chatter in Draco's mind, he could sense the dark energy chilling him. Hedwig had been right. Draco oozed dark magic despite the spells she had managed to remove, and Harry wondered why he had never noticed it before. It had been a risk giving him the wand, but Harry needed to build up some sort of trust. Needed to show Draco he could control this ... thing. That he could beat the darkness which Voldemort had infused him with.

It was strange, Harry considered, being here with Draco after all these years. He had been mulling over in his mind what this meeting might be like ever since the decision to get Draco out had been made. Would he still hate his old enemy? Would he, like Ron, want to kick the shit out of him?

To Harry's surprise, he realised he felt nothing. No animosity, no anger, not even gratitude for Draco having saved his life. Unlike his friends, who had been in almost constant contact with the Malfoy family, his three years away from the Wizarding world had somehow taken away any feelings he might have had. He looked at the slight figure, shadowed in the growing darkness and muffled in the cloak, and the emotion that inched to the surface was, surprisingly he decided, of pity. Despite his money, position, family and pureblood rhetoric, Draco looked sad and lonely. Maybe, Harry debated, it was because of what had happened to Draco in the last few days. Then he remembered the photographs he had taken of Draco and his parents in Diagon Alley, and he knew that the fear shown in that print was with Draco all the time.

Harry picked up the wand and pointed it at the twin lamps on the table. "_Lumos_." The candles flickered to life, casting a glow that spread as far as the edge of the table. Harry sat on the opposite side of the table, the candles between them.

"Can you do that without a wand?" Draco asked quietly.

"Can you?"

"I asked first."

"You know you need a wand to do magic." Harry took off his glasses and cleaned them with the edge of his shirt. He didn't put them back on. Instead he carefully placed them on the table and he looked across at Draco, the candlelight causing Harry's eyes to sparkle with green fire.

It was very off-putting. Draco couldn't remember Harry without those trademark glasses. They were as much part of the persona of The Boy Who Lived as was the scar. But Draco did feel calmer in the man's company. The voice in his mind had receded to almost nothing and the coldness had started to dissipate. "I've been talking to someone who thinks you can do magic without a wand."

"Who?"

Draco wondered about couching his comments in riddles, but Harry had never had problems saying 'the name'. "Voldemort." Harry's eyebrows rose, questioning. "Do you remember the cloud and what I said about my father?"

Harry shrugged. "The cloud was an illusion, and illusions don't always tell the truth."

"Okay, then I'll tell you again. Where do you want me to start?" 

"Up to you. I've got all the time in the world."

Draco met Harry's gaze, his own eyes suddenly dark. "That's the problem. You haven't, not if 'he' has his way." Suddenly warm, he fiddled with the clasp of his cloak and took it off.

"Why?"

Leaning forward, arms resting on the tabletop, Draco spoke. "It started on my birthday." He closed his eyes briefly. Was it only seven weeks ago? 31st July 2001 now seemed like a lifetime ago. He felt like he had died on that day, like he'd been someone else before. But then, who was he now? What had Voldemort changed him in to?

Taking a deep breath, Draco finally continued. "My father told me he had a surprise for my birthday. As I waited for his gift, I was hit by a surge of the most incredible magical energy I have ever experienced. It felt like my whole body was just ripped apart. Everything -- skin, bones, blood, cells. In the same instance, it was put back together again, but I knew something had changed. I found out later that this was energy coming back from you. It was being used to link us together. Then he showed me your image. Do you remember that day in your car? You looked terrible and your scar was bleeding."

Harry's hand went absently to his forehead and he brushed at the scar just above his right eye. "I remember."

"He told me who he really was."

"Voldemort?" Draco nodded. "Do you believe him?"

"Oh yes. It's him." Draco wanted to say something about how he finally understood what Harry had been through during all those battles with the Dark Lord, but he just couldn't bring himself to say so. He would say it later, he decided. Yes, later. "But it was my father as well in a strange way. He told me my father's essence was no longer there. That he'd agreed to give Voldemort his body. Yet I could still sense him. Voldemort is very good at role-play; just wait until you see him. I think he plays Lucius Malfoy better than my father did."

"Does anyone else know?"

"I don't think so. Even the Death Eaters and his other followers think that Lucius has taken over from where Voldemort left off before you killed him." He paused thoughtfully. "Except for my mother. I'm sure she's always known. Everyone else seems to believe the story that you had lied, that he had never been resurrected."

"So who did I trap in the cave? I take it you know about the cave under the Slytherin School?"

"Of course. Supposedly it's my father. The whole thing was a trap; from the moment you rescued Professor Snape and found the cave. It was a set up, Potter, to get rid of Dumbledore. Without him, you would lose most of your protection and there would be no one to teach you the true nature of what powers you would possess once you turned 21."

Harry hid his shock well, his eyes betraying nothing. He had spent the first 11 years of his life learning to hide exactly what he felt. To betray his true feelings to the Dursleys had always earned him a punishment, so he had learned to shield his eyes and keep them neutral even if inside he was seething. And that was what he was doing now, hiding his true feelings.

Deep inside, however, he was reeling. It was one thing being told this story when he was in some dream world, because he could always believe that it was a fantasy. He had thought that he'd come to terms with the idea after discussing it with Sirius, Hedwig and Hermione. He really believed he had accepted his own failure to destroy the Dark Lord and of losing Dumbledore. But to hear the story again now, with cold, stark reality surrounding him was much harder than anything he could ever have envisaged.

He had sacrificed Professor Dumbledore for nothing. He had imprisoned Lucius Malfoy at the same time. Voldemort was still very much alive. He had succeeded at NOTHING. And now he was paying the price for running away three years ago by having these incurable curses hanging over him.

And what about Snape? Had Snape been in on this all along? Had he still been a Death Eater when Harry and the three Weasley boys had rescued him? Was the whole rescue attempt just Voldemort's way of leading Harry to the crystal cave? And what about the potion Snape had given him a few days before? Was it safe? How did he know whether Snape was trying to poison him or not? "Did Snape know what was going on?"

"No. He got used, like the rest of us."

_Liar! _Harry heard his mind screaming. _Everyone is lying to me! Why can't someone tell me the truth? Why can't they all stop using me? Even Dumbledore. Why didn't he tell me about these powers I'm supposed to have now? He must have known. He could have prepared me for this._

He picked up the wand. Was the strange way his wand now reacted to him and his ability to do wandless magic part of these 'new powers'? If there was no one around who could teach him how to use them, they were just so much extra baggage fouling up his life.

Suddenly he wanted to be home with Emily, away from magic. She would make him feel safe, and that was what he wanted more than anything right now. But it could never be the same again, could it? He couldn't just go home to that life which had been so perfect for the last few years. Back to the safe Muggle world where he was Harry the photographer -- Harry the Normal Person. Voldemort had taken his life away from him for the second time. First he had destroyed his parents and had taken away his childhood. Now Voldemort was taking away the life Harry had built for himself. Even if he managed to survive this, he could not go back to his normal Muggle life again. It would always be tainted by the fact that he was a wizard; he could no longer deny that fact, as much as he wanted to.

He flexed the wand between his two hands, wanting to snap it in two, wanting to break this thing connecting him to the Wizarding world and to Voldemort. He felt he could sense the phoenix feather deep in the heart of the holly wood and wondered if he could sense its brother in Voldemort's wand. Immortality. That was what Voldemort has once told him he was striving for. Would the Dark Lord keep rising, like a phoenix, back to life each time Harry tried to destroy him? The thought of forever fighting this man sent a shockwave through Harry, and he shuddered at the thought of being trapped in a never-ending cycle of life and death trying to destroy something that could not die.

The wand dropped from numb fingers and he looked at it, horrified by the power it could bestow on him if he just asked for it. Horrified that if he accepted it, it could change him beyond recognition. Turn him into a person who might be closer to Voldemort than to himself.

He realised that Draco was watching him, a frown on his face. Was he sensing Harry's fears? Harry's concerns?

"Potter?" Draco's voice was quiet, tinged with concern.

Harry looked up, meeting the other's gaze. He took a breath, trying to focus back onto the conversation he was supposed to be having.

"And you never knew?" he finally spoke, his voice catching slightly. "About the switch?"

For a moment Draco continued watching Harry, trying to work out what was going on in the other's mind. Emotion rolled off Harry in waves, and he felt it pass through him, tingling at his nerve endings. "Are you all right?" he finally had to ask.

Harry shifted on his chair, the mask he had worn earlier slipping back into place again. "I'm fine. I just need to get this over with." 

Draco felt the barriers return and almost gasped out loud as the emotion was cut off, leaving him feeling bereft. He swallowed, taking a calming breath before continuing. "I had no idea about the switch. Voldemort used my father's position to rise through the ministry. Once he got to be Minister of Magic, he started making changes. People saw him as some sort of saviour and just followed along. They aren't under _Imperius_ or anything." He looked skyward for the moment, noticing the first star against the darkening blue sky. "Now I look back, I think the switch was early on. Not long after the Tri-Wizard Tournament. It was Voldemort who ordered the deaths of Weasley's father and brother, not my father."

"But Ron is right. You didn't do anything to stop it."

Draco sat back in his chair, face now out of the circle of light. "Do we really have to go over this again? There was nothing I could do. We were in a room overflowing with Death Eaters, none of whom would have listened to me."

"You could have tried."

"Yeah, well, I'm not you, am I? I'm not the Great Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived. I'm just Draco Malfoy who lost out to you in almost everything. And I didn't come here at great personal expense to talk about the Weasleys."

"If we are going to sort this curse thing out, then you're going to have to deal with them, because they will all be involved."

"I can't change what happened."

"No, but you can help make it right."

"By doing what? Apologizing? Do you really think any of those people," he pointed towards the house, "would accept an apology from me?" The chair scrapped against the flagstones. "This is pointless. I'm going. I'll deal with it on my own." He got to his feet.

"Sit down." The voice was a whisper, and it reminded Draco of the tone Voldemort used. He stood beside the table, trying to sort out the confusion in his mind. Reality was, indeed, slipping way.

A movement at his feet caught Draco's attention and he looked down. Pushing out from the folds of his cloak was a black and white cat. It twisted once round his legs then sat at his feet, looking up with him with green eyes that reminded him of the other eyes watching him across the table.

Finally Draco returned to his chair, holding out his hand to the cat without thinking. He felt it sniff at his fingers before pushing its head against his hand. He'd always liked cats; their aloofness reminded him of himself, but his father would never let him have a cat. In fact, he reminded himself, he wasn't allowed any pet. Lucius had told him owning a pet was a sign of weakness. "Don't push me, Potter."

"Then go. I can't make you stay here."

Draco gave a sudden start as the cat jumped lightly into his lap. For a moment, he considered returning the animal to the ground, but it turned a full 360-degree circle and settled down, its head now resting warmly against his stomach, its green eyes studying him. A small metal disc glittered from the cat's collar and he idly flicked it into the light. The tidy script writing read 'Kovack', and on the reverse it said 'I live with Frances; if you think I'm lost, call 050756'. He ran a finger over the disc's surface, feeling the indentations where the wording had been engraved. The hand continued across the cat's head, gently running over the soft fine fur. The cat purred silently, the purr a sensation that rumbled through Draco's body.

The cat finally closed its eyes, and Draco looked from one green gaze to the other. It perplexed him that he found it so easy to talk to Potter. He'd expected it to be difficult opening up to his enemy, but in fact it was quite the opposite -- an almost cathartic experience. But to feel so open, so vulnerable scared him.

Rhythmically he continued stroking the cat, occasionally pausing to scratch it under the chin. "You are a powerful wizard. Your parents were powerful in their own right, but you are supposed to be greater still. The sum of the two halves would end up being greater than the whole. Voldemort had known this would happen for years, even before you were born. He wanted that power for himself, but it doesn't manifest itself until the person reaches 21. You should get Granger to research this 21 thing. In wizard legend, it's a time of true transition. Voldemort's problem was that he knew no one would let him get at you."

"Is this where you came in?"

"Voldemort told me he had created both of us, that we have his life force in us. Twin souls connected by blah, blah, blah. I guess you know how he can rant on about things. Loves the sound of his own voice." A wry smile flickered across Harry's face. "Doesn't this make you wonder why we've never gotten on?"

Harry knew it wasn't a question, but he answered anyway. "I can imagine a few reasons."

"So can I. Voldemort planned to kill you as a baby, when you would be too weak to defend yourself. Then your powers would revert to me because of the link he'd created between us. I would be brought up by the Dark side, and because I would be taught my place in the greater scheme of things, at the age of 21 I'd be willing to die and hand it all over to him."

"And the scar?" Harry gestured at Draco's neck.

"Oh, yes, my lovely new, or rather old, dark mark. I never needed the skull and serpent thing because I already had this." With his free hand (the other was still stroking Kovack), he undid a couple of buttons and pulled open the shirt. The scar shone gold in the candlelight. "I got mine on my 1st birthday. His plan was that the moment he cursed you with the scar, the connection between us would be complete. It would hold just long enough to transfer your powers to me. Then you would die and I'd have 20 years of life left."

Draco suddenly let out a ragged sob and closed his eyes. The cat shifted as he did so, a paw now resting on his arm as though it was aware of Draco's pain, Kovack allowed Draco's hand to twist in his black and white fur. "I have the most incredible headache."

Harry watched him for a moment, and then picking up his wand he whispered. _"Amoveovere Doloris." _

Draco didn't move for a minute or two, and then with a long, slow sigh he opened his eyes. "Thank you."

Harry shrugged. "Are you okay to continue?"

"Do I have a choice?" Draco was surprised that Harry should show concern.

"You aren't a prisoner here, Malfoy. We have to work together on this."

"Work together?"

Harry let out a sigh of exasperation. "Can you deal with this on your own?" Draco looked down at the cat and said nothing. "Then we have to deal with it together. The sooner I can get this sorted, the sooner I can get on with my life."

The comment caused Draco to look up. "And what life is that, Potter?"

"One that doesn't involve you, wizards or magic." Draco thought he saw a flash of anger in the emerald eyes. "Voldemort's plan didn't work."

Draco continued studying Harry. So The Boy Who Lived didn't like his return to the wizarding world. Interesting. "No," he finally continued. "And that, as they say, is history. Baby Potter survived and Evil guy disappeared. He never thought he would have the opportunity to try again. Until that trick with your wand after the Tri-Wizard Tournament. The _Priori Incantatem._"

"How did you know about that?" For the first time, Harry looked surprised.

"He told me, idiot."

"I can give you the headache back again if you don't play nice, Malfoy."

Draco held up his hands. "Something that happened during that spell made him realise he could have another stab after your 21st birthday. The first time he tried to carry out this ceremony was on Halloween. He is planning something for 31st October this year. He's going to get you back to Godric's Hollow and perform the same ceremony he did when we were both babies. You die and I get your powers. Voldemort then takes them from me and becomes Evil Overlord of the Universe."

"And this mirroring spell?"

"It was a while before I found out about that. At first I just thought he was being nasty for the hell of it. Then he told me the spell allowed him to hurt you by hurting me."

"Is it different from the spell that links us?"

Draco nodded. "The link through the scars he's using for the ceremony was part of the energy surge I felt coming back from you. The mirroring curse, _Speculumous, _is what he's using to control me and to hurt you. Any curse he uses on me, you get to experience." Voldemort's confession as to why he had used Draco as the trigger came to mind. All those apologies that night, all that talk of explanations. How could he have fallen for them? What was it Voldemort had said to him? _Follow me and I will teach you how to use your power. We will rule - father and son - and no one will be able to stop us._ How could he have believed the Dark Lord had wanted him as his son, as his successor?

But the little voice in his mind chimed in, _You know it's all true. Bring back Potter, and you will find out just how true._

Draco shook it away. "Then your owl turned up. Nice touch, having an Animagus as a messenger owl."

"I only found out a few weeks ago."

"Really?" A huge grin spread across Draco's face. "You had an owl in your room who was really this very pretty bird?" He giggled at his own joke. "Bird?" Harry did not laugh. "Oh, forget it."

The Green eyes bore into him, giving Draco the feeling that Harry could see perfectly well without his glasses. "Hedwig is a wonderful person. She risked her life to get you out."

"I know, but it hasn't been easy for me either." Draco shoulders sagged as a wave of tiredness swept over him. He looked down at the cat again and realised it was watching him intently through half closed eyes. It yawned, showing long pointed teeth. The rumbling purr vibrated through Draco's body. When he looked up again, he saw that the mask covering Harry's eyes had slipped. He looked as tired as Draco felt.

"Potter. Can I tell you something? I had to break out of my own home to come here. I have been accused of nearly killing my own mother. I am on the run from the Aurors, and the guy in charge is someone who hates me. Marcus Flint has never forgiven me for not beating Gryffindor at Quidditch." There was no humour in Draco's voice, no sarcastic undertone. "Voldemort is going to kill us both if he gets the chance. I don't want to die, and I am also fed up being his catalyst. He's trying to break you down so that when the great day comes, he will be able to deal with you once and for all. I know you feel the curses he's using on the both of us. Do they hurt?" Harry nodded. "Well, if it hurt you, imagine what it was like for me. I feel like I'm in hell, burning up forever with no end in sight." He dragged a hand across his face, making it look like he was brushing his hair away rather than wiping tears of remembered pain before Harry saw them.

But Harry saw, and felt the pain again, still all too fresh in his mind as well. "Are you safe now?"

"I don't know. I don't know how far he can reach. I don't know if he will find me and drag me back. He is good at mind games as well as out-and-out pain. He keeps trying to make me believe different things, get me confused. But I do know that he's going to force you to go to Godric's Hollow, and once you are there, he's going to rip us both into pieces and probably never put us back together again." 

"No, he won't." The voice was strangely quiet, and Draco remembered the tone from Hogwarts. That quiet, determined voice which demanded attention and made you know that Harry was going to get his own way. The first time Draco had heard it was when he had taken Longbottom's Remembrall during their first flying lesson. And now he was hearing it again.

Harry came to his feet and moved around the table. Kovack watched as the other man approached. The cat rubbed its head once more against Draco's body then jumped lightly to the ground and wound around Harry's legs. Then, with a little meow, the cat sauntered from the garden, tail held high.

Then, to Draco's surprise, Harry put a hand on his shoulder. "Come on. You must be tired."

It was the last thing Draco had expected and the one thing he couldn't cope with. Compassion from Potter.

For several seconds Draco just sat staring at the candles. The tears started slowly at first, filling his eyes with stinging saltiness. He blinked hard, trying to stop them, back stiff as he tried to stop himself from shaking, fists clenched hard on the table before him.

Slowly, too slowly for him to stop, he finally broke down, shedding tears that had been stored up for years. He leaned forward, cradling his head in his own arms, all the time aware of the pressure of Harry's hand on his shoulder.

********************

Putting the razor down, Draco splashed water over his face and studied his reflection in the mirror.

_You still look a mess,_ the mirror told him.

"Thanks, I really need to know that." He ran a hand over the now smooth skin of his face, grateful for his light colouring. At least he didn't get a five o'clock shadow like Potter probably did. Nor did he have to put up with red whiskers like Weasley. The steaming water filling the bath fogged the mirror again, and he wiped the condensation from the surface with a towel. The mirror giggled back. Even without the beard growth (which actually wasn't that much, he reminded himself), the face he saw was not Draco Malfoy at his best. Someone had once told him he would still look good dressed only in a black bin bag, but today, even if he were in his best robes, he would probably look like a tramp.

He peered closer; trying to see what damage Weasley's back-hander had actually inflicted. The bruise ran across his left cheekbone and around his eye. Fingers carefully prodded at it, and he decried the fact that although his knowledge of first aid magic was pretty good, he had never learned to perform it on himself. Maybe he could persuade Potter to help.

On second thoughts, Potter was the last person he wanted to see now. It had been a couple of hours since Draco had broken down in front of Potter, and he still smarted from the outburst. Crying was something Malfoys did not do. Crying in front of one's mortal enemy was tantamount to treason.

Returning to the bath, he turned off the water before carefully checking his other injuries. The whole of his right side was a mess, covered with bruises from Weasley's big feet. It looked worse around his ribs, where the bruises overlaid the fading yellow of Voldemort's last beating. The black and blue marks continued in a series of shoe-shaped impressions down his leg, and his knee looked swollen from the blow Weasley had delivered to the joint. He flexed his knee, and decided that he would probably have a very effective limp by the morning.

His right thigh was a mess too. The skin had been scraped off in a patch about six inches across. Circling that was a larger, angry, red area, and he could just make out the tread pattern of Weasley's shoe on the skin. He touched it tentatively and watched as bloody liquid seeped from the damaged flesh.

And finally, there was the back of his head where he had cracked it on the floor. He had already tried to see the damage in the mirror without much success. The lump felt the size of a Bludger, and was incredibly painful even now, hours later.

What had he gotten himself into?

He was beginning to think that he had exchanged one almost dire predicament for another. At least back at home he was in a situation he had been used to and, thus, could handle. Here, in this new place, he had no idea what to expect. Weasley's venomous comments and attack had come as a total surprise, which was probably why he had reacted so badly.

As for Potter. Well, it might have been four years since he had last seen the ex-Gryffindor, but Draco had expected their relationship to carry on from the place where it had halted after their last confrontation. This Harry, however, was a different person from those days. Draco couldn't quite place how Harry had changed, but he was not the same. There had been none of the antagonism that had marked any contact between them in the past. This Harry had been like a calm, still pool of water into which Draco's own emotions seem to have been poured. The serenity exuded by Harry had seeped into him, and that was probably why he had found it so easy to talk.

With a heartfelt sigh, Draco tried to forget what had happened to him, at least for the time being anyway. He lowered himself into the bubble-filled bath, hissing in pain as the hot water touched his injured flesh. The hiss of pain slowly turned into a groan of pleasure as he settled into the liquid depths, the warmth seeping immediately into his tired flesh, easing the aches and tenderness. He carefully lay back, feeling the bubbles against his neck and in his hair.

This was the first decent wash he'd managed since fleeing the manor three days before, and his skin felt grimy to the touch. Even during his school days he had been fastidious about his cleanliness, so to have worn the same clothes now for those three days made him shudder. He ran a hand through the foam and filled his palm with the lavender-scented bubbles. It was not a scent he would normally have picked for himself, but anything would do in a time of crisis. He assumed the bubble bath was Hermione's. Weasley did not strike him as a lavender sort of boy.

Taking a breath, he slid down into the water until he was completely submerged. Eyes closed, he felt his hair float around him and he ran his fingers through it, washing the grime from the strands. He stayed under until he thought his lungs might burst. Finally surfacing, he gasped for air, water spilling onto the floor. 

"I hope it drips through your ceiling, Weasley," he muttered. Leaning back, he let out a sudden yelp of pain as the inflamed lump on the back of his head connected with the hard surface of the bath. Eyes watering, he waited for the throbbing to subside. "I hope the whole bloody ceiling falls in." He touched the lump gently, pulling a face.

Draco eventually found a comfortable position and closed his eyes, drifting off in the warmth with a contented sigh.

Sometime later, judging from the temperature of the water, which was now closer to tepid than warm, he was roused by a knock at the door.

He opened his eyes, but didn't move. If he stayed in exactly the same position, he knew he wouldn't notice how cold the water had become. "Yes?"

The door opened slightly and Harry poked his head round. "Um, Hermione asked me to bring you some towels." He gave a nervous smile and entered the room, eyes averted from the bath. He put the linen on top of a small cupboard, fiddled for a moment before finally turning back, focusing on a spot somewhere above Draco's head.

Draco had sunk lower into the water, hands and bubbles protectively about him. "I am trying to have a quiet moment here," he replied, realising how few bubbles actually remained. He felt strangely vulnerable stuck in the bath while Harry did his best not to look at him.

Picking up a large bath towel, Harry finally shifted to face the bedraggled man. There were bubbles in Draco's hair and across his shoulders, and Harry was aware of the smell of lavender in the room. He looked away again, embarrassed to have noticed. Holding the towel tightly against his chest, he pointed at the bundle he had carried into the room. "There is something for you to wear tonight as well. Hermione said she'd put your own stuff in to wash overnight." He glanced at the pile of clothes Draco had left on the floor. Turning them over with his toe, he looked suspiciously at the stains on the trousers. "Is this grass?"

"I don't remember. Now, if you've finished, I'd like to get out." 

"Umm." He gestured with the towel towards a medical kit which he had bought into the bathroom. "Hermione asked me to check out --" the towel was waved at Draco -- "your injuries."

Draco eyed the medical kit suspiciously before slipping deeper into the rapidly cooling water. "And since when are you qualified to check anything?"

"In case you're interested I studied first aid magic during my final two years." Harry felt intimidated by the situation. He didn't want to be here, but with Hermione busily placating Ron and the twins now gone, he didn't have much choice. "The teachers thought it might be a good idea if everyone learned considering the circumstances." 

Draco cast a wary eye in his direction, but didn't look at him directly. "Circumstances?"

"Yes. Voldemort, war, major bloodshed." Harry finally turned back to face him, and threw the towel at Draco. "I'm sure you understand." 

Draco grabbed the towel out of the air and stared from it to Harry, who had now turned his back again. He stood up, water flowing down his body, and wrapping the towel around his waist, he climbed out of the bath. Harry had moved a chair to the middle of the room, and he stood behind it, waiting for Draco to sit.

Doing as instructed, Draco was surprised by the feel of cloth against his back and shoulder. He stiffened slightly under the touch, but slowly relaxed against Harry's ministrations. The tenderness of the other's actions came as a shock and he wasn't sure how to react. 

When Draco had sat down, Harry hadn't been sure what to do. Water still dripped from Draco's hair, trickling down his wet shoulders and back. He had picked up a second towel meaning to give it to Draco but instead was drawn to the man's slightly muscular back. Carefully he began to dry the pale skin, noting there was no excess flesh on him. Draco's shoulder blades struck out like knife-edges and he could see all of his spine and ribs. But what surprised Harry more were the lines that criss-crossed the whole of Draco's back.

Harry slowly dried the marks, studying each as he did so, the frown deepening on his face with each passage of the towel across the back. He realised that they were scars, some of which were white and clearly old, while others were red, and obviously very recent. His eyes quickly retraced the towel's journey. He counted 13 of the thin marks and realised they were the result of a cane or a whip.

Frowning, Harry absently wiped at the shoulders and upper arm. "Who did this?" His hands suddenly became still as the words he had thought actually became spoken. He felt Draco tense under the hand that rested on his shoulder.

"What?"

Harry swallowed, embarrassed, but also curious. Who had caused them and why? Some of these scars looked years old. Was Draco an abused child? Had his parents beaten him? He carefully traced one of the old scars that ran diagonally across the back from left shoulder to right hip, disappearing it to the towel. "You've been beaten." The words were soft, but spoken with authority.

Draco's back arched slightly, away from Harry fingers. "This has nothing to do with you."

"I just wondered --"

"Well don't." Unseen by Harry, Draco closed his eyes, fighting back tears left from earlier in the garden. He wanted to tell Harry the truth, wanted someone other than his father and himself to know the truth. But the truth was hidden behind years of lies and he couldn't bring himself to break the vow of silence so strongly enforced by his father.

Yet there was a strange sense of release just from the fact that someone else had seen the signs of his father's brutality. Now someone else knew his secret. But what would Harry think if he was told the truth. How Lucius would beat him and then use spells to repair the damage. How sometimes he would leave one of the wounds in place to heal naturally, producing the network of scars on his back and top of his legs. Sometimes Draco thought his father saw his son as some sort of painting canvas on which he produced this work of art, always looking for just the right line to add to his ongoing masterpiece.

Would Harry believe him if he told the truth? Would he understand that Lucius had sworn Draco to secrecy? Had always told him it was between father and son and no one else must ever be told? Could he really betray the promises Lucius had made him make? And why would Harry believe him anyway?

How could he tell him his father used to beat him when he made a mistake and sometimes even when he got it right just to remind him of what would happen if he didn't study hard enough? How could he explain that his father would tell him it was always his fault? _Do you think I enjoy doing this?_ Lucius would say. _You make me do this. You and your inability to follow even the simplest of instructions._

Draco found himself trembling almost uncontrollably at the memory and was surprised to feel hands again resting lightly on his shoulders. The touch was so soft it felt like a whisper of silk on his skin. A breath hitched in his throat.

"Malfoy? Are you alright?" The room was quite warm, Harry noted, and Malfoy should not be cold. Draco nodded, arms now held tightly about him. "Okay, come on." He pulled Draco to his feet and made him put on a dressing gown before pulling away the wet towel from around his waist. The gown was pulled tightly around the shivering body, and Harry sat him down again. "Do you feel ill?"

"No. It's nothing. I'm fine. Now will you get this finished and leave me alone?"

Harry stared hard into the other's face, trying to read the look in the grey eyes. They seemed very distant and, he realised, just a little bit scared. "Are you sure?"

"I am fine," Draco responded very slowly.

Suddenly Harry crouched down, his hands on Draco's knees. "Look, I can help if you want me to."

"It's not that easy." He knew immediately even those few words were too much, and his eyelids fluttered closed. "I'm just very tired."

Remaining very still for several minutes, Harry finally straightened. "Okay, whatever you say." He returned to the towels and collected a dry one. "I need to dry your hair so I can check out the damage from your fall." The shoulders shrugged slightly. "Do you want to do it?" Another shrug but no overt movement.

Harry approached the stiff back again and began to carefully towel-dry the fine blond hair. Then, with equal care, he ran his fingers through the silky strands to investigate the injury with his fingertips. The torn skin had formed a vivid line now, and it no longer bled. There was, however a large inflamed red area surrounding it, and the lump was the size of his palm. He touched the edge with a fingertip and watched as Draco flinched slightly. "Ron wants me to leave this, but I'd like to try something if you don't mind."

"What? Like turning me into a chocolate frog?"

"No." With his left hand, Harry cupped the side of Draco head, holding it still. "Do you trust me?"

"Not really, but what else have I got to lose?" Draco found he couldn't move his head; the hold was gently tight, almost reassuring. He kept his focus on a spot on the wall. "Okay."

Not knowing what to expect, Draco was surprised to just feel the flat of a hand touch the wound. At first there was nothing, then slowly a strange sensation seemed to condense in the tiny space between the hand and his skull. It grew in strength, seeping into his skin and bone. The feeling didn't hurt, but it made him shudder slightly as the sensation of magic flickered through him.

When Harry removed his hand, the sensation remained for a while, then as it cleared Draco realised the pain had gone completely. Dazed, he raised a hand to his head and gingerly touched the spot. 

There was nothing but smooth, healthy skin. No lump. No cut. No bruising. He spun round, meeting the green eyes for the first time since Harry had come into the bathroom. "How...."

Harry raised a finger to his lips, silencing Draco. He took a deep breath and placed his hand on Draco's bruised face. As the breath was released, the same sensation as before flowed from his hand into the damaged flesh. He studied the repair, fingertips brushing what had once been bruised flash. There was a flush to the area now, coloured by increased blood flow. Harry nodded to himself. The hand remained in contact as he knelt on the floor. It trailed down Draco's arm and finally came to rest on his side. He could feel the man tremble slightly at the touch, and knew without asking that Voldemort had inflicted some of the damage he felt under his hand.

Again on the out-breath the power flowed. Harry realised he could almost feel Draco's pain, as though for a second he had experienced it as well. He let out a small hiss of shared pain, the sound hitching in his throat. It was a moment before he felt ready to continue again. His whole body felt tense, as though he were an overstretched guitar string just ready to snap in two. His hands trembled with tension and power, and he realised he was scared of what he was suddenly capable of.

Finally, the hand reached for the hem of the dressing gown, pulling back the cloth to reveal the damage caused by Ron's foot. He was aware of Draco's eyes on him as he laid his hand carefully on the outside of Draco's thigh, the wound disappearing under his touch. 

"How did you do that?" Draco finally managed to ask as Harry straightened. He swayed slightly and Draco's hand shot out to steady him. "Harry?"

The sensation of vertigo was so unexpected that Harry thought he might pass out. It passed after a few seconds, and he wondered if he had imagined it. "Thank you," he finally managed to say as Draco released his arm.

Standing very still, Harry rubbed his hands together. The sensation of power working though them had been awe-inspiring and he was more than a little shocked by how successful his very first attempt at wandless magic had been. He met the other's gaze and was instantly transported back to Hogwarts and their battles as children. Then he suddenly realised that between them, they were the Slytherin colours. His green eyes and Draco's grey/silver eyes. He pondered the thought for a moment before resting a hand on Draco's shoulder. The tips of his index and middle finger brushed against the raised flesh of Draco's scar and he cocked his head slightly, studying the curious shape.

For a moment he thought he felt a sensation in his own scar, as though he was caressing it without touching it, but decided that wasn't possible.

Finally, he favoured Draco with a slight smile. "I told you I trained in first aid magic."

With that, he fled the bathroom.

Draco watched the closed door for some moments, the smile on his face the first genuine one he had managed in a very long while.

********************

The tapping on the door brought Harry back from the place Draco's stories had taken him. Since fleeing the bathroom, he had hidden away in the guest room Hermione had shown him to earlier. At first he had refused the offer of a place to sleep, but there was no way he could drive home after what had taken place with Draco. The healing magic had left him feeling faint, almost as though he wasn't moving at a normal pace.

It he were truthful, he hadn't really expected anything to happen. True, he instinctively felt it should work, but it had been a surprise nevertheless. The after-effects had come as a complete surprise. The feeling of weakness in his body was not actually unpleasant but it was disorientating. Were the after-effects occurring because he did not really know how to use this form of magic? Or was there something more? Was the energy coming directly from him and would he become progressively weaker each time he used it?

Unfortunately the only person who could answer his questions was no longer here, but Harry decided he would have to be more careful with its use in the future.

Someone knocked on the door again and Harry sighed. He wasn't sure that he really wanted to talk to anyone, but he finally called out, "Come in."

The door creaked open just enough for Ron to poke his head in. "Okay, Harry?"

"Sure." Harry, who was stretched out on the bed, sat up and crossed his legs.

Ron closed the door behind him and bounced onto the bed. "Not exactly the birthday party you'd imagined."

"No. But then, you didn't expect me either. I would have called, but you don't have a phone and Hedwig was out with him." Harry hooked a finger in the general direction of the room he knew Draco had been given. "That's why I came here, to tell you and Hermione what was going on. I honestly didn't know he'd turn up here."

Scooting back to lean against the wall, Ron mirrored Harry's posture. He was reminded of evenings at Hogwarts when he and Harry would spend hours sitting on their beds, sometimes hidden behind the long, dark red, curtains, talking about everything from Quidditch to, well, Quidditch. Sometimes Seamus, Neville or Dean would join them. Sometimes even Hermione would sneak into the boys' dormitory.

"Yeah, well." Ron shrugged. He caught the pillow Harry threw at him and propped it behind his back. "That's one hell of a story Malfoy told. Do you think he's telling the truth?" Harry had insisted that Draco tell the Weasley brothers and Hermione his story. What he had given them was a truncated and slightly less friendly version, which had been met with a very frosty reception.

Harry nodded. "I think so. At least he's told the same story twice now. If he's lying, it's quite convincing. We already know about the mirroring curse. Snape confirmed that, and I can tell you it is real enough for me. That scar on his neck isn't recent and it looks like it's been there for years, even if we weren't aware of it before. As for Voldemort and this Halloween ceremony. That we do only have his word for." He picked at the bedspread for a moment, teasing a couple of threads loose. "You know more about Lucius Malfoy than I do. What do you think about him?"

Ron shrugged. "Exactly the same as I always have. The whole Malfoy clan are bad pieces of work and Lucius is the worst. I don't know how he's managing it, but he is slowly poisoning everyone and coercing people into following him without them actually realising it is happening. It's like he's got the power to enslave the whole world, wizard and Muggle alike." He paused, clearly shocked at what he had just said. He gave a shudder. "That sounds more than a bit like Voldemort, doesn't it?"

"It does. Maybe Draco is telling the truth." Ron didn't respond, and Harry finally looked up from the bedspread to see a frown on the other's face. "I'm sorry. About your father and Bill."

"You didn't know."

"I wasn't there"

"True." Ron took a deep breath and pushed a shock of red hair from his forehead. "Why did you go?"

"Ron...."

"No, Harry. Tell me. We've all spent the last three years wondering what we did to make you leave."

Harry frowned, his scar dark against his pale flesh. "None of you did anything. It wasn't like that."

"Then tell me what it was like." Ron folded his arms across his chest and studied his old friend. The colour had drained completely from Harry's face; in fact he looked ashen, as if in shock. It made his hair look even blacker and his green eyes seemed huge. "I remember asking back then, Harry, and you wouldn't answer ... wouldn't explain."

Grabbing at his knees, Harry hugged them to his chest and rested his forehead there for a moment. He'd been waiting for this for weeks now -- ever since Ron had turned up at his birthday party. Sooner or later someone would ask him to explain. He wished it had been Hermione; she at least might have been sympathetic. But Ron? Ron had been his best friend; he had been by Harry's side through so many terrible events. And where had Harry been at the worst time in his best friend's life? He'd been sitting on a cliff top, wallowing in his own misery, already denying he had ever been a wizard. Would things have been different if he had stayed, Harry wondered. Could he have saved his friend's family? Would Ron hate him as he hated Draco if Harry had tried and failed?

He finally looked up and pulled off his glasses, not wanting to look at the other with clear vision. "I'm not sure I know what to say."

"Try. We've put our lives on hold for you. You owe us that much." 

Harry looked angrily at Ron for a moment, but the look was lost without the glasses. How dare Ron say that? Hadn't Harry done enough in all those years? Hadn't he risked his life enough time? Would these people never let him find the peace he wanted? He slapped down the emotion, knowing that he didn't want to argue with Ron. Not at the moment anyway. "Okay. I did something I am really not proud of. I let Dumbledore talk me into using him as bait for Voldemort. I took away the only person Voldemort was scared of, the only person who could stand up to the Dark Lord. I shut him up in a cave of living crystal, which would trap him in an everlasting hell. No escape. No way out. Before I locked the cave shut, I got a taste of what was happening to the man who had been like a grandfather to me. I thought he might end up in a deep sleep or something like that. Even death would have been preferable to what it was actually like. Try and imagine Ron, what it would be like to start screaming and never, ever stop. That is what I condemned him to."

"Harry..."

"No, you asked. Let me finish. I heard a similar scream coming from Voldemort. I didn't think it was possible, but that was even worse. It sucked every ounce of resolve I had and I nearly couldn't do it. He seeped into me and tried to persuade me to let him go. He was so convincing, Ron. He offered me the world and I nearly took it. Nearly succumbed to his propositions and enticements. He even nearly persuaded me that he hadn't killed my parents.

"I got out and managed to seal the cave, but Voldemort was still in my mind. He left me in a very dark place with no way out. I tried to fight it, but the more I did, the worse it got." Harry rubbed at his eyes, trying to banish the remembered pain. "I couldn't tell anyone because the longer I stayed in the Wizarding world, the more Voldemort climbed into my mind. It was as though without Dumbledore I became open to all the dark magic out there." A small laugh sounded which made Ron freeze. "I was so scared."

"Why didn't you talk to us?" Ron shifted up the bed, close enough to touch Harry. "You didn't have to go through that on your own." 

"Yes I did. What would you have done? Voldemort managed to do what I had spent seven years trying to stop. He had me believing things I KNEW were wrong. It would have been so easy to cross that line right there and then. I was this close." He held his thumb and index finger about an inch apart. "I was once told there was no such thing as good and evil, but only power and the way it's used. I didn't believe it at the time, but I have felt both now, and they are so very close. In the end I realised the only thing I could do was to get away from the memories and all the Wizarding connections. And that was why I left." Harry's head dropped back to the headboard and he stared at the ceiling.

Ron watched him for a moment, wondering what to say next. He finally cleared his throat. "Now we know Voldemort wasn't in the cave, it sort of makes sense. Him still being there after you sealed the cave."

"Right. I didn't know at the time, but after what Draco said, I can see it now. Voldemort planned the whole thing to get rid of Dumbledore. Once he was gone, there was no one left to stop Voldemort and no one to help shield me from dark magic. I hadn't known that either -- how much protection Dumbledore was giving me."

"Is it still there? The Darkness?" Ron could feel the concern rising in him. If Harry was being influenced in any way by Voldemort and with Malfoy here....

"The moment I left the magical environment, the sensation left me. It took me a long time to climb back out -- to find myself again. But I made it eventually. Emily helped. She was like a rock. Without her I don't think I would have made it." Eyelids fluttered closed, Harry took a great breath which he slowly released as if trying to find an inner calmness. "Then he found me again and put this curse on me. I can feel the Darkness again, Ron. I can feel myself slipping back into that pit."

"Harry," his hand touched the other's ankle. "You can deal with this. We're all here for you -- you are with friends."

"Ron, I know that. But only one person can help, and I trapped him in that cave. I've got these powers and there is no one to show me how to use them." His fist clenched tightly and wondered whether to tell Ron what had happened with Draco. In the end he decided against it. "If I don't learn, then they will control me and I dread to think where that will lead to."

"Will you come to Hogwarts with me?" Ron wished Harry would open his eyes. It was like looking at a blank canvas, and Ron was scared of the images he was drawing on it. "Remus works there with the other Aurors. He can help you with this."

"I'll think about it. In the meantime, I have to sort out things with Draco. He's a key to this if I can just find the right lock." The comment was mused more to himself than Ron.

"You know, I'd come here to tell you that I wasn't prepared to work with Draco." The eyelids finally flickered open and green eyes locked with Ron's blue. "I hate him with a vengeance, Harry. It makes me sick to think that he is staying in my house, eating my food, sleeping in my room."

"Ron, he..."

"No. This is my turn." Ron took a breath. "I will help you in any way I can, you know that. But him, I just can't."

"Ron, he didn't kill them."

"Don't try and defend him."

"I'm not. You know he wasn't responsible. He didn't murder Arthur and Bill."

"He did nothing either."

"Turn the tables a minute. Imagine it was the other way round and it was a group of our people and they had Lucius and Draco. And they were going to kill them. Would you have stopped them?"

"We wouldn't have killed them. You know that."

"Wouldn't we? You got very close to it earlier."

I..." Ron dropped down on the bed, away from Harry and onto his back. "And now I feel like shit because of it. I didn't think I was capable of that." He stared at the ceiling and realised that Harry's hand was now on his ankle. "You see, Malfoy's doing it again. Making ME feel guilty for what he's done." The silence that followed lasted a long time, and when Ron finally spoke, his voice was quiet. "Okay. But I'm doing this for you, not for him. And if I think he is a danger to you, I won't hesitate to do something about it. He hasn't changed, Harry, please remember that. He's still the same bastard we knew at school." He turned slightly, meeting the other's eyes. "Don't be taken in by him."

"I understand and I don't trust him. I believe what he's told us, but I do not trust him."

"Good." An evil glint slowly solidified in Ron's blue eyes, and he smiled. "It really felt good, you know, kicking the crap out of him." 

********************

It had taken him a while, but Draco had finally managed to locate a bottle of alcohol. It didn't matter what alcohol it was (this was brandy), all he wanted was something to dull the senses and to interfere with the chattering voice in his mind. A voice he knew belonged to Voldemort.

The voice had started on the night the Dark Lord had first used _Cruciatus_ on him out on the steps by the fountain. After that, Draco had known when Voldemort was coming for him. The sensation would start in the pit of his stomach and slowly spread as the man came closer. Sometimes he thought he could even hear his father's voice in his mind, telling him what he was planning to do to his son next. But that wasn't possible, was it? Lucius was trapped with Dumbledore. Lucius was far, far away.

At first, he had thought the ability to know what Voldemort was planning would be a useful tool. He could prepare himself ... be ready. But in reality, it did the opposite. The expectation became almost as bad as the actual act and Draco was left a nervous wreck, struggling to cope as his world collapsed around him.

Draco knew that Voldemort's curses did not actually produce physical injuries; he'd worked that out almost immediately. He knew that if he could control his thoughts, he could control the pain. It had helped a couple of times, but the constant pressure made any belief in his abilities almost zero. Trying to convince yourself that it is all in the mind when you are being consumed by fire is not an easy task. He could sense Voldemort now, whispering somewhere in the back of his mind. Sometimes the words were as clear as they had been earlier, but mostly the sound was that of constant chatter that ate away at his self-control.

Two things had helped. First, there had been Harry. Draco hated to admit it (and probably would never tell the man), but if it hadn't been for Harry and those visits to his safe place on the cloud, he didn't think he would have been able to cope. He could sense Harry now, and wondered again whether the effect worked both ways. Did it mean that Voldemort could sense Harry as well? He shivered at the prospect, worried about the possible consequences of what was happening to him.

It was that thought that make him seek out the solace of the bottle now. He had found out by accident that alcohol dulled the thought processes in his brain and stilled the voice so he no longer heard it. He needed to break this connection. He wasn't sure if the Dark Lord could actually locate him through this link, or whether it just made him aware of what Draco was doing and feeling. He knew he should tell Harry, but what was the point? No one could help, and by telling he just gave away a little bit more of himself. And he'd given away too much already.

The kitchen door opened and he looked up from his glass, body stiffening. "Granger. Why can't you people just bugger off and leave me alone?"

"This does happen to be my kitchen in case you've forgotten."

Hermione looked at him for a moment. He was wearing a pair of Ron's pyjamas, which hung loosely on his smaller frame. The buttons of the jacket were undone, and he'd pulled the sleeves up to free his hands. Fine silky hair hung untidily around his face. "Besides, you ruined my birthday, so I don't see why I should give you the run of my home."

Draco looked at her. "What? Today?"

"Yes. Not that you would be interested anyway. You managed to spoil enough of them in the past, so why change the habit of a lifetime?"

Draco watched as Hermione pulled her dressing gown tighter about her. Then he got to his feet, retrieved a glass from the cupboard and poured a double measure into it. He pushed it across the table and sat back down, refilling his own glass. "Happy birthday."

"It's a bit late for me," she glanced at the clock, realising that it was already midnight. "Or early, depending on your point of view." 

"Go on, live a little. It's your birthday after all." Draco took a gulp of the dark amber liquid, pulling a face. "Was your birthday." 

"Is there a reason why you are slowly getting drunk in my kitchen? On my brandy?"

"Apart from being cursed by the Dark Lord, disowned by my own family, out in the world without a sickle and wearing the pyjamas of one of my sworn enemies? No, I just feel like getting completely smashed."

"Does alcohol help?"

"To do what?"

"I've been checking up on this curse. There isn't much about it because the victims ... well..."

"Die?"

She nodded. "One person who lived through it told of being aware of the caster in their mind all the time. Like a voice you couldn't hear properly. She used narcotics to dull her senses."

"Have you told anyone else?" Hermione shook her head. "Then don't. It's hard enough having Voldemort in my head without Weasley and the others knowing."

"I can't promise that. Does Voldemort know where you are now?" 

He shrugged. "I doubt it. If he did, I think you might have found your lovely house surrounded by Death Eaters long before now." He wanted to say more to her, to tell her what he was experiencing. But she was a Mudblood, he reminded himself and he owed her nothing. She would tell Weasel and the others everything -- all his secrets. His hand went to his forehead, brushing at a spot where a headache was beginning to throb.

"We can help, you know," Hermione spoke softly. "You really don't need to do this alone."

"How can you help? The word is there's no cure except dying." He pointed a finger at her. "Oh, I get it, you're going to kill me." 

"Don't be stupid. I would have arranged for Harry to drown you in the bath if that were the case. I can give you a protection charm and something to help you cope without this." She reached for the brandy bottle, stopping Draco from filling his glass again. "That way you won't have to deal with a hangover on top of everything else."

"And why would you want to help me?" She looked confused. "Well, I'm hardly on your list of favourite people, am I? Being the son of an evil overload and held responsible for all sorts of dastardly deeds."

She laughed a little. "Malfoy, just because I don't like you doesn't mean I won't help. That's the difference between your lot and our lot."

"I don't have a 'lot' anymore." He sat back and drained the last dregs from his glass. As he looked down into the now empty glass he realised he actually had nothing to lose. He looked at her, his eyes grey pits, which seemed to suck in the very light from the room. "Okay."

"Okay what?"

"Okay, tell me what to do."

"Please." He stared at her, eyes wide. "I'm offering to help, you are accepting. It is customary to say please."

"I don't beg." His eyes became cold grey slate.

"Oh, for goodness sake, Malfoy, you are such an insufferable prig even after everything that's happened to you."

His face remained set, but the coldness slowly evaporated from his stare. "I've spent years cultivating that priggishness."

She pushed her hair back from her face and retrieved a wand from somewhere. "I'm not going to argue with you. I gave Harry a charm, which has helped him. I made a similar one for you. Plus I can give you a potion which will stop the whispering and help you sleep."

A small bottled appeared on the table, and she pushed it across to him. "Take a spoonful before you go to bed."

"And during the day?"

"Can't help much there, I'm afraid, unless you want to walk around like a zombie. If you get a good night's sleep, the daytime will be easier anyway. You'll be more alert and more able to cut the noise out." She reached into her pocket and took out a length of twin-coloured cord. "This is charmed to help hide you from Voldemort. It isn't a cure-all and I'm not sure how strong it is, but it will give you the chance to have some respite from what he's doing even if it doesn't hide you completely."

Draco took the twisted green and silver cord. "Slytherin. Shouldn't it be the same colour as the one Potter is wearing?"

"No, it's individually tailored to the person. The colours are part of the charm and that's how yours has turned out. Here, let me." She moved round the table and paused for a moment before reaching a hand to his head. He didn't struggle as she brushed his hair away from the wounds, checking the injury. She frowned and then looked again. It had gone. Then she realised that the black eye had also vanished. "What happened?"

"To what?"

"To this? And to all the bruising?"

Draco opened his mouth to answer and then slowly closed it. They didn't know about Harry or his new powers. They had no idea what he was capable of. He debated for a moment whether to say anything and then decided to keep Harry's secret for the moment at least. "What do you think I spent the last two years at school doing?" He echoed Harry's earlier comment about this training. "We had lessons in first aid magic." Which wasn't far from the truth, he reminded himself. He just couldn't do it on himself. "Impressed?"

"Umm," she responded thoughtfully, her hand running over the place the injury on his head had been. There was something she was unsure about. A sensation picked up from him. Finally she spoke again, "Which is your wand hand?" He held up his left hand and she tied the cord loosely around it. He felt it settle there, and a strange calmness spread through his body.

She perched on the edge of the table. "You know, Ron is normally a very gentle person. He doesn't like violence."

Draco looked up at her. "Ah, the real reason you are here? To defend what he did?" His eyes flashed with anger. At last, something he could focus on. His continuous hatred of Ronald Weasley. He almost said a prayer of thanks. "You could have fooled me."

"Can you understand why he is so upset? Ron and his family lost their father and brother in a vicious attack."

"People got killed on both sides. That's war." She didn't respond. "I've lost my father as well. And my mother."

"But you've lost them to your own side. You can't blame any of that on us."

He leaned back in his chair and folded his arm. For some reason he felt extremely calm. "I didn't ask for this and you have NO idea what it has been like. You should get off that holier-than-thou pedestal of yours and realise that you and Weasley and Potter aren't the only people who've been hurt. And just because my views are different from yours, that doesn't automatically mean that I am wrong." He came to his feet and reached across the table for the bottle. "Now if you've nothing more constructive to say, I am trying to get drunk here." 

He looked up at her, his face masked in the sort of expression she remembered from their days at school. A haughty, arrogant stare that said he didn't think she was capable of helping anyone.

"Okay," Hermione grabbed the bottle out of his hand. "Just remember, I did offer. And yes, we are all hurting. ALL of us have lost something. So you might try getting off your own pedestal for once and maybe seeing what it's like down here in the real world." She headed for the door, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Draco watched her leave, desperate to call her back, but not knowing how to do so. He felt like he had been stripped of almost everything he had once called his own. Not even the wretched clothes he was wearing now were his own. He had nothing and if it wasn't for the charity of these people he would be sleeping out in a field again.

He slumped back down onto the chair and put his head in his hands, desperately wanting some place to escape to.

********************

Hermione stood by the kitchen door for several minutes, wondering whether to go back in. She knew that Draco would be drinking the brandy he had poured for her. Malfoy was a complete enigma, and she couldn't come to grips with where he was coming from at all. Nothing had changed, she decided. Malfoy was just the same arrogant child she had known at Hogwarts. And yet, there was something else, as though he were crying out to be understood, wanting to be helped. With a shake of her head, she headed up the stairs.

The door to Harry's room was ajar, and the light was on. She knocked on the door, and then looked in. "Harry."

He was sitting in bed, a book on his lap, but his glasses were off so she knew he wasn't actually reading. "Did you find him?"

Closing the door behind her, Hermione crossed over to the bed. "He's down in the kitchen getting drunk. But I've taken away his bottle," She held up the brandy.

"I didn't think that was your tipple."

"Malfoy's a mess, Harry." She put the bottle down and perched on the bed. "I don't think he's going to be much help to anyone at the moment, least of all you."

Harry looked thoughtfully into the distance for a moment, debating whether to her about the marks on Draco's back. It was not, he decided, his place to reveal Draco's secrets even to someone he trusted such as Hermione. "You sound like you might have a little sympathy for him," he finally responded.

"Of course I have, but that doesn't mean I have to like him does it." Hermione gave a little sigh. "But you can only kick a dog so many times before he bites back. Harry, I don't know what you are planning, but I have seen that look in your eyes before. You need to be careful if it involves Malfoy because he's unstable at the moment and you can't rely on what his actions might be."

Harry looked away for a moment and then down at the book on his lap. He carefully closed it and moved it to one side. "Okay. I'll bear that in mind." When he looked back at her, Hermione saw his expression had become neutral, placid. "Were you able to help him at all?"

"I've given him a potion to help him sleep and a protection charm like the one you're wearing. But I'm only a trainee Mediwitch, and that's about the most I can do. You both need help from people much more knowledgeable than me."

"Ron suggested going to Hogwarts."

"He's right. That's where the Aurors are based now. Remus Lupin is in charge, along with Alastor Moody. They might be able to help with the curses."

"And Malfoy's trauma?"

"There are people up there who can help. You don't have to do this on your own, Harry."

"I'll think about it. Hermione, I'm sorry we've ruined your birthday. I really didn't expect Malfoy to turn up here and as for Ron's reaction." Harry shook his head in disbelief. "If I'd had any idea what he would do, I would have stepped in earlier. It all happened so quickly."

"Well, at least it will give me something to write in my diary now." She smiled, head to one side. "I was surprised to see you here. I wasn't sure you'd remember."

"How could I ever forget your birthday? I might not have been around, but I did always remember." A small smile played on his lips. "But I guess that doesn't really mean a lot does it." Hermione looked away, her eyes fixed on a painting on a banal picture of wood sprites on the wall. Harry saw her throat working as she swallowed, and she blinked rapidly. He wanted to reach out and gather her in his arms. Instead, he held out a small gift-wrapped package. "It's just a little gift."

Hermione finally pulled her gaze from the fairies dancing in their little woodland glade, and looked at the package in surprise. "Oh. Thank you." Inside the small box was a bracelet made of two twisted strands of enamelled metal, one gold, and the other scarlet. It looked like the charm she had given Harry.

"I found it when I went to Diagon Alley."

"It's lovely." She slid the delicate band onto her left wrist and leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

Harry watched as Hermione studied the bracelet, twisting it slowly round and round her wrist with her other hand. "There are some charms on it -- mainly protection. There's a direction one as well, so you can give it a location and it will give you the direction you need to go in." He reached out, stopping the incessant movement as his fingers closed on her right hand. For a moment her fist clenched and Harry's larger hand surrounded it, then she turned her hand over, linking her fingers with his. "I talked with Ron."

"I know. He told me."

"Did he tell you what I said?" She shook her head, and Harry swore under his breath. Having told the story once, he really didn't want to retell it. He sighted and began all over again.

It was no easier the second time around.

Hermione let him speak without interrupting and by the time he had finished her mind raced with so many questions. She debated asking them, but there was something in Harry's demeanour that prevented her. He was dealing with so much at the moment, and she suddenly did not want to add to his burdens. Instead, she simply said, "We'll get through this." She squeezed his hand "We've done it before."

"But I've never felt as unwell as this. It feels like I've got a great big weight tied to my body, and it's just dragging me down, deeper and deeper." He knew this feeling was not due to the healing magic. It had been there long before that, but he was sure it was stronger now, exacerbated by the healing.

She touched his face and found that it was feverish. "I can get you a restorative potion, it will help."

"It's been worse since Malfoy turned up here, and I don't know if I feel worse because of the curse or because he's just down the hall." He looked at her, the green of his eyes washed of colour through his tiredness. "It's all getting out of control and I don't know what to do."

"How is it worse?"

"Oh, it's difficult to describe. It's not like telepathy or a mental connection. It's more emotional, visceral, like I can feel the pressure eating away at him as though it is doing the same to me. I know he's a mess, Hermione because I can sense it in here." He tapped a finger on his chest. "And it make me feel on edge -- it would be so easy to explode, just scream at someone. I wanted to scream at Ron earlier and hit him and kick him back because I could feel the pain he's caused to Draco. But I don't want to fight with Ron. I've upset him enough already. I don't want to lose him as my friend, not after just finding him again." His hands were in his hair, a gesture Hermione recognised from so many years ago. "How the hell am I ever going to get through this?"

Hermione registered that he had called Malfoy 'Draco'. She had never heard Harry use Malfoy's given name before and for some reason its use worried her. She needed to talk to Hedwig about this. Needed to tell Sirius and Remus that the connection from the curses was deeper than any of them realised. "You aren't alone."

Harry looked directly at her, and it was almost as if she could see his mind working, crunching through options and alternatives. "I am," he finally said. "I have to finish off what I started -- this time for good."

Hermione stared into the green depths and knew what he was thinking. She suddenly feared for his life. "You can't go after Voldemort. Not now, not in the state you're in." Her hand gripped tighter. "I won't let you."

"You couldn't stop me if I wanted to go. I need to..." He paused and she could see that he was clenching his teeth. "I'm not telling you. You'll tell Ron, and at best he'll try to stop me. At worse he'll want to come along."

"Harry, what are you planning to do? Harry!"

"Hermione, I need someone to look after Draco. Will you do that for me? If Voldemort gets hold of him, he'll kill him and I'll die too. Get him to Hogwarts or somewhere they won't be able to find him."

"And in the meantime you're going to do what?" She suddenly shifted forward and took hold of his chin, making him look at her. "Tell me, Harry, or I'll get Sirius here ... and Snape and every other bloody person on our side and we _will _stop you doing something stupid."

He tried to pull away, but her hands moved to either side of his head, holding him securely. There was a look of real determination on her face. "Harry."

"I have to try to rescue Dumbledore."

"No..."

"Yes. If what Draco said is true, there might be some way to get him out. I have to know, one way or the other."

"And you plan to do this alone?"

"I can't take anyone else." He finally grabbed at her hands and pulled them away. "I won't take anyone." The expression on his face matched that on Hermione's. "If they got killed... No, I have to do this on my own."

"I won't let you."

"I'm sorry, love, but you don't have any choice."

"Don't you dare call me that!" Hermione snatched her hands away. "Don't you dare try and get round me by calling me 'love'. You gave up any right to terms of endearment when you pissed off out of my life." Suddenly three years of pain and hurt flooded through her being and for a split second she really, really hated him. "You leave without a word and then turn up here as if nothing... NOTHING... has happened."

"That is not true."

"Yes it is. Harry Potter the Hero, who has to do it all by himself. Have you learned nothing? Don't you realise there are things you can't do on your own?"

"Don't do this... I need..."

"Don't you dare say you need me, either. That's something else you gave up the right to when you walked out and left me."

Silenced by the vitriolic response Harry just sat there watching her. He had no idea what to say or even what to think. For some reason he had always expected Hermione to be there for him, no matter what he did or said. But the hurt in her eyes now... the -- was it hatred he saw there as well? "Hermione, I'm sorry."

"Not good enough. Do you know I want to beat you to a pulp?"

"Then hit me, I deserve it --."

"-- and, you bastard, I want to hold you and kiss you and make everything all right."

"What?"

Hermione suddenly came to her feet, needing to distance herself from both Harry and the bed. "I am not going to let you go and get yourself killed."

"But what you just said..."

"You will never, ever refer to that again, understand." Her voice was a hiss of determination.

"But..."

"When are you going?"

"To -- to where?"

She was pleased to see the shock still on Harry's face and took grim satisfaction in confusing him. The truth was she could fall into those arms right now. Wanted to make love to him again with the passion they had shared in the past. Wanted to experience the thrill of those lips on her body and the way Harry could make her react. Harry made love like he flew, taking risks, with a joyful abandonment. But just down the corridor Ron was waiting and she loved him as well. Careful, thoughtful Ron who treated her like she might break.

"If you're going to be so stupid as to try and get to Dumbledore, you're going to need help."

"I'm not taking anyone with me." Harry finally managed to get some semblance of order back into his muddled brain.

"So, what are you going to do? Just turn up at the Slytherin School and knock on the door?"

"Well, I haven't thought that far yet."

Hermione folded her arms. "I thought so. Promise me you won't go until I've had chance to find out how you can get in. We have people in the school who can give us information."

"You're going to help me? I thought..."

"We're both on the same side, Harry. If you need to do this then although I might not approve, I will help."

"But Ron and Sirius?"

"Will I tell them?" Harry nodded. "I will if you go tearing off without thinking this through. In fact I'll stop you myself if you do something stupid." She turned to the door.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked, still shocked by what had just transpired.

"To get that restorative potion."

********************

He hadn't had this nightmare for years, not since he'd left Hogwarts. But it was different this time. Before, he had always been part of it, but now he was watching from afar. Watching from the golden cloud.

He saw his father. Heard him shouting, panicking.

_"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off --"_

He watched as his mother picked up baby Harry from where he had been playing happily in a corner. She fled the lounge and locked herself in the downstairs playroom.

James waited in the middle of the room, his wand pointing at the locked front door. Harry had never seen this nightmare from this point-of-view. He'd always been with his mother, had never seen his father waiting ... waiting. It could be him down there waiting. Could be him, knowing that he stood no chance against forces much more powerful than he was. Except for the eyes, of course. Dark eyes under a shock of black hair.

Those eyes flickered around the room, looking for escape. The fear on that face caused it to look bleached white in the harsh light of the bulb hanging above him. There was no shade on the light, and Harry wondered why. Hadn't they been in the house long enough to put up a shade? His father reacted as if he had heard his son, and he too looked up. He pointed his wand at the light and intoned silently. The brightness dissolved, scurrying away to leave the room in the gloom of twilight. But he didn't move, didn't look for a hiding place. James stood in the centre of the room and watched the door.

Harry heard the lock click open, saw the handle turn and the door move a few inches. The darkness seeped through the crack. More than just the night, it was the taint of Voldemort's magic.

He could see his father's mouth moving again, silent incantations directed at the door. The door slammed shut, bands of steel forming barricades over the entrance. James knew that the _Fidelius_ charm had failed. What must Voldemort have done to Peter to force the information from him? Even now, in this dire time, James found time to worry about his friends.

The spell that finally shattered the door also took out half of the wall. The force of the blast sent James crashing back, lifting him off his feet and smashing him into the wall. He dropped to the floor, a tangle of breathless limbs. Glasses now missing, James scrambled about, trying to find his wand and glasses in the wood and brick splinters that showered the room, sending up a choking cloud of dust. His fingers closed around the wand, but his glasses had been destroyed, one lens missing, the other covered in tiny cracks. James looked up towards the gapping hole and Harry saw that his father's face was streaked with blood.

There were others. Cloaked figures. Visible through the gaping hole where the door and wall had once been. They waited in silence, no one paying attention to the sound of the baby crying in the arms of the man standing slightly apart from them. The man gently rocked the child, holding him safely in the crook of his arm. Tiny fingers reached out to his father's hand, holding on tightly to the fingers, which he tried to ram in his mouth. The man smiled, his blond hair visible from the folds of his hood. The crying stopped as the child suckled on a finger, unaware of what was going to happen to him.

Enveloped in the debris, someone entered the room, shrouded in a cloak, hood up, face in shadow. From deep within the folds of the material, Harry heard a cackle of high-pitched laughter.

Voldemort.

"Hello, James. I told you that you couldn't escape from me." The voice sounded so ordinary, like they were just discussing the weather.

"What did you do to Peter?" James scrambled to his feet.

The chuckle from Voldemort was so dark, it made Harry shudder. "Nothing, James. He was quite, quite happy to betray you."

"No!"

"Oh yes, and for such a small price as well." The figure stepped further into the room. "Now, give me the boy, and you and your wife can leave."

"You can't have him. I won't let you." James pointed his wand at Voldemort and hurled a succession of curses at him. Each stopped short, as though hitting a barrier before the Dark Lord.

"You won't let me? You are nothing. Less than nothing"

Desperately, Harry tried to find a way down to the ground, but there was none. He was trapped, only able to watch and never to be a part of what was happening below. He watched in fascinated horror as Voldemort returned his father's curses. They slammed into James, his body distorted by the pain. He tried to get away, but there was nowhere to hide in the debris. His father's blood streaked the wall and floor, everything he touched turned crimson. Then, when Harry thought he could take no more, he heard Voldemort intone the killing curse and his father was enveloped in a flash of green light. James Potter dropped to the floor like a dead weight, eyes staring blankly up at his son, the wand in his hand split in two all the way down its shaft.

"Nooooo!" Harry's scream of anguish went unheard by the people now entering the house. The only person who heard seemed to be the child. Little grey eyes looked upwards, blond locks curling around the pale face.

Then Harry heard it again. A scream that had haunted his years at Hogwarts. A woman screaming. Begging. Pleading.

_"Not Harry! Not Harry! Please -- I'll do anything --"_

And he remembered the moment with a clarity that almost killed him. It had always been there locked in his mind, the truth of the moment when he had seen his mother die.

Remembered Lily standing protectively before him, trying to shield him from the monster approaching.

_Stand aside -- stand aside, girl -- "_

_"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"_

Saw as the same curses used on his father shattered his mother's body

_"Stand aside, you silly girl ... stand aside, now ..."_

Saw the growing flowers of crimson splatter his own baby clothes, streak across his cheek. Felt his mother's hands trying to grab at him, to shield him, protect him.

_"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead. Please ... have mercy ... have mercy..."_

But the cloaked man was past mercy, past caring, when he pointed his wand at Lily one last time and in a cold quiet voice said the Killing curse. The room pulsed with a green glow and Harry heard Voldemort's shrill voice laughing as Lily screamed, taking the full brunt of the curse straight to her heart.

But she didn't die, not straight away. Harry watched in disbelief, tears streaking down his face, as his mother's hand reached towards her child, saw her mouth move, saying his name one last time. How could she still be alive? How could she have survived? Lily's green eyes shone brightly as she met the mirror of them in her son, then the light in her eyes flickered and disappeared, going out forever. 

Harry stood on the edge of the cloud and thought he heard the fluttering of wings. He jumped into oblivion.

********************

The soft flutter of wings changed into the rustle of fabric as Hedwig entered through the open bedroom window and transformed into her human form. She watched the sleeping figure toss and turn his way through the nightmare that had called her to him.

Silently, her feet bare on the wooden floor, she crossed to the edge of the bed and carefully reached her hands out to the flailing arms. As she stilled the movement, she murmured soft words of encouragement, and finally gathered Harry in her arms.

Harry came out of the nightmare with a jolt, not breathing for a moment, eyes wide in terror.

The emerald eyes darted around the room as if looking for something, tears running down his cheeks and pooling in the fabric of Hedwig's tunic. They finally found her face and locked with her own tear-filled eyes.

He blinked up at her, vision blurred further by the tears. A hand twisted in her long hair. "Mummy?"

"Shh, Harry darling. It's okay. You're safe now." With a silent cry of anguish, Hedwig drew the boy tighter into her arms and wept along with him.

--------------------

The text shown in italics during Harry's dream is taken from _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Askaban_ by JK Rowling.

**Next chapter: Muggles -- **Harry takes Draco home. Draco gets to meet Emily. Emily gets to confront Harry, and just what will she make of Hedwig?

**Author's Notes: **

Thanks to all my betas: Josie, Thursday, Ashleigh, Ginzai and Lynn. A special welcome to Aja for her help with the Harry/Draco dynamic (snigger).

Thanks to all who have recently reviewed. If I have missed your name from this list, sorry. Every review is read and appreciated. Ayla Pascal, lazymeoo7, AVK, Emily Anne, Mim, evilkarky, Josie, purple colored geek, Alex, Iris, FernWithy, RicaSieg(akaBlossom), Demeter, sir dorcas cadogan, Andrea B, Ice Queen, Midnight Owl, Aziraphael, Evil*Fair, ~beccy, gwen (), Erin, Haruka7, Alex (), Freda Potter, lilahp, Kim

Special thanks to everyone at HP_Coming of Age for your comments and general kindness while waiting for this chapter.

Reviews are always welcome, either here on the FictionAlley Board (click on review), to me at frances@forever.u-net.com or at the Yahoo group for this story. All up and coming chapters will be posted there first. Click HERE to sign up for HP_comingofage


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